











> 5> 






IlIBRARY OF CONGRESS.! I 

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^UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. | 
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PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 



BLIFKINS THE MARTYR: 

THE DOMESTIC TRIALS OF A MODEL HUSBAND. 

THE MODERN SYNTAX: 

DR. SPOONER'S EXPERIENCES IN SEARCH OF THE DELECTABLE. 

PARTINGTON PAPERS: 

STRIPPINGS OF THE WARM MILK OF HUMAN KINDNESS. 

NEW AND OLD DIPS 

FEOM AN UNAMBITIOUS INKSTAND. 
BVMOJiOUS, ECCENTJtIC, ItBTTBMIC AL . 



By B. P. SHILLABER. ''^. 

" 'Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, 
but 'tis enough." 



BOSTON: 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 

ISTEW YORK: 

LEE, SHEPARD AND DILLINGHAM. 

1873. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, 

By B. p. SHILLABER, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



7^ 



^^^ 



Stereotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundiy, 
No. 19 Spring Lane. 



^^ 



TO 

JOHN H. EASTBURN, ESQ., 

THE PRINTER AND THE PRINTERS FRIEND, 

@:ijis §oak 

BY ONE OF THE CRAFT, 

IS CORDIALLY DEDICATED. 



LUBRICATORY. 



It is a necessity, with ship-builders, that, before 
they attempt to put the vessel they have built into 
the water, they liberally grease the ways, on which 
it rests in its cradle, in order that it may slide off 
easily into its "native element," as I have known 
enthusiastic reporters term the water in describing a 
launch. Well, an author's book is something of the 
same character. It is a structure that he has builded, 
as well as he knew how, to sail out on the waves of 
Kterature, to meet with a fate similar to that of the 
bark ; for it may be favored with excellent weather, 
and sail over gentle seas, or be dashed about, and be 
wrecked, even, by adverse winds and angry elements. 
Therefore a preparatory lubrication may not be amiss, 
through which the fabric may glide down on its mis- 
sion — to find its way to favor, or be as speedily for- 
gotten as may be. In presenting his book, the author 
has tln-ee objects in view : To offer a claim for con- 
tinued remembrance by his friends ; to amuse the 
reader who ma}^ be attracted ; to secure a little of that 

5 



6 LUBRICATORY. 

benefit for whicli the best of people make books. The 
author makes no very strong pretence to immaculate- 
ness in his book, either in style or quality ; he has not, 
as he conceives, any grand leading moral idea in it ; 
but he deems that if it succeed in making the reader 
for a moment forget his worldly cares and pains, and 
awakens a smile at eccentricities of thought or speech, 
it will have done as much good as though it made 
more pretension. No one, perhaps, who reads the 
author's name will purchase the volume with any ex- 
pectation of finding aught beyond tliis ; for though 
doubtless capable of writing books on abstruse sub- 
jects, he is content to let the Bacons of the age write 
them, and reserve to himself the hrunbler and more 
popular field of humor. In liis pages, Dr. Spoouer, 
the martyr Blif Idns, and Mrs. Partington hold place, 
while there are many things, new and old, that are 
submitted in the form of stories, in some considerable 
variety, and sketches and rhythmical efforts that the 
author commends. He has taken for his motto, as 
being very fit, the remark of Mr. Mercutio regarding 
his wound, and satisfied that it is " enough," and will 
" serve," he leaves his book in the hands of his friends 
— and of his enemies, likewise, if he have any, to 
bide the result. 



CONTENTS. 



LUBRICATORY. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS: 

I. BLIFKINS' SUMMER RETREAT. . . 12 

II. BLIFKINS THE HOUSEHOLDER. . . 22 

HI. BLIFKINS THE MECHANIC. ... 26 

IV. BLIFKINS AND THE CAT 29 

V. BLIFKINS THE SUFFERER. ... 35 

VL BLIFKINS THE AUTHOR 40 

VIL BLIFKINS THE COASTER. ... 46 

VIIL BLIFKINS THE MOURNER 49 

IX. BLIFKINS SEES KEAN 56 

X. BLIFKINS' MOONLIGHT TRIP. ... 62 

XL BLIFKINS' SILVER WEDDING. . . 68 

XH. BLIFKINS THE BACCHANAL. ... 74 

XIII. BLIFKINS THE HORTICULTURIST. . . 77 

XIV. BLIFKINS THE LINGUIST 81 

7 



8 CONTENTS. 

XV. BLIFKINS' DOG SAILOR BOY. . . 85 

XVI. BLIFKINS TAKES A STAND. ... 92 

XVII. BLIFKINS THE PATRIOT 94 

XVIII. BLIFKINS THE CONSUMER 99 

XIX. BLIFKINS THE RURALIST. ... 101 

XX. BLIFKINS' MIDNIGHT CALL. . . .108 

XXI. BLIFKINS THE EXPERIMENTALIST. . 113 

THE MODERN SYNTAX: 

DR. SPOONER IN SEARCH OF THE DELECTABLE. 110 
INTRODUCING DR. SPOONER 121 

ORACULAR PEARLS. 

STRIPPINGS. (What Mrs. P. said.) . . . .151 

NEW AND OLD DIPS FROM MY INKSTAND: 

LES MISERABLES 177 

MISSION OF A RARE-DONE STEAK. . . .189 

A NEW RAPE OF THE LOCK 194 

THE VERIFICATION 199 

BUILDING THE BRIDGE 208 

A MODEL MAN'S EXPERIENCES 212 

WORK OF THE OLD MASTERS 219 



CONTENTS. 9 

GRAPE-SKINS 223 

THE LETTER OF DISMISSAL 225 

MY FRIEND'S SECRET 235 

THE WIFE CURER. . . . . . . .237 

GOUT 247 

THE VENERABLE SLEDGE 250 

A HORSE-CAR INCIDENT 256 

THE OLD RED EAR 260 

EXPERIENCES OF A LAME MAN. ... 262 

BLESS YOU! 266 

SALT-WATER TROUT 268 

THE POOR BLIND MAN 271 

MR. SPOTGAM'S TREAT 272 

HOME IN VACATION. . 278 

DISPOSING OF A CASE 280 

VAIN REGRETS 282 

EXTRACT FROM AN UNWRITTEN ROMANCE. 284 

TRUE FAITH 286 

A BIT OF OBITUARY 288 

A COUNTRY RAINY DAY 290 

SIDEWALK OPERA 293 

MY FIRST FUDDLE 296 

SAN GAREE'S RIDE 302 

THE VICTIM OF INVITATIONS 304 

THE GEEEN GOOSE 308 



10 CONTENTS. 

MISSING . 311 

MIGRATORY BONES 327 

A NEW YEAR'S REVERIE. ...... 330 

MY FAMILY 346 

DRUMMING 355 

PREACHING TO THE POOR 358 

THE COURTS 359 



PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOM. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 

Thomas Moore, in a note to one of his satirical songs, 
wherein he alludes disparagingly to the marriage state, 
repudiates the sentiment of his Muse, and declares himself 
the happiest of men in the relation which he affects to de- 
ride. In these papers there may appear a degree of levity 
where they touch upon the domestic relations of Mr. and 
Mrs. Blif kins, and some may see an invidious rule, for 
general application, in the little acerbities depicted, that 
are, however, merely the momentary obscurations of the 
sun, rather than the blotting of it out entirely — like those 
shadows that flit above a pleasant landscape in summer, 
rendering the scene more bright because of the interrup- 
tion. It wouldn't be a blessing to have it fair weather all 
the time, in a meteorological point of view, and in matri- 
mony, the acid, though antagonistic to the saccharine, if 
admitted in slight proportion, makes the latter more posi- 
tive, and secures keener enjoyment. Therefore this ele- 
ment in the Blifkins economy renders the life of that esti- 
mable pair happy, plus. The eccentricities and fickleness 
of Blifkins that will appear in these pages, tend measurably 
to keep the acid in active readiness, but they are really 

11 



12 PAETESTGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

mere spots upon the sun, which, while we speculate upon 
them, disappear and leave his affection to shine in un- 
clouded splendor upon his own fireside. The editor of 
these j^apers, therefore, as he publishes the idiosynci'asies 
of his friend, and lays his faults oj^en to criticism, points 
to his virtues, as the Yankee enthusiast pointed out Bun- 
ker Hill Monument to an English visitor without saying 
a word, leaving it to speak for itself. It Avas the remark 
of a distinguished jurist that every tub should stand on its 
own bottom, and Blifkins must stand or fall on the ver- 
dict upon his own merits. Our acquaintance with him 
beoan durinsf the war, when we received a letter from hira 
detailing his experience in country quarters, through the 
reprinting of which we introduce him to our readers. This 
we entitle — 



BLIFKINS'S SUMMER RETREAT. 

HAnDSCEABBLE ViLLAGK, September 1, 1861. 
I CAME here to enjoy my opium, cum digitalis amid 
Hardscrabble scenery. In front of us a cranberry meadow 
stretches away into the interminable distance. A fine view 
is presented, because there is no tree or bush to break off 
the prospect ; in the rear the awful hills arise in their sub- 
lime grandeur, which, the people here say, can be seen with 
the naked eye on a clear day, being but seventy-five miles 
away. Between me and the hills a fine growth of huckle- 
berry meets the desire for swamp scenery, and on nights 
the song of the buttermonk and bull-frog gratifies the 
primitive musical taste that delights not in Strauss and 
Chopin. The stage road runs by the west end of the house, 
beyond which a precipitous hill shuts out the last rays of 
the descending sun, that are called "unhealthy" by 



THE BLIFKmS PAPERS. 13 

local science. The stage affords an unending interest, 
as it passes three times a day to and from the depot, rais- 
ing a cloud of dust, and awakens lively anxiety for the fate 
of the children who may be lying round loose, and for the 
furnitui-e, which is sure to receive a plentiful supply of the 
insidious particles. A preventive is supplied, however, in 
closing the doors, which keeps the children inside and the 
dust out. On the east, beyond a potato patch, is more 
cranberry meadow, and a small j^ond full of impracticable 
jDond lilies and mud turtles. 

Mrs, Blifkins heard of this place as one delightfully re- 
tired, where board could he had cheap ; and she said to me 
one day, when I came home from a hard day's work, — I had 
devoted the whole day to collecting a bill of three dollars, — 

"Mr. Blifkins, the Joneses have gone into the country." 

" Well, my dear," said I, " I cannot conceive how that 
concerns us in any way," 

"No, I suppose not," said that charming woman, rather 
sharply ; " it doesn't concern us at all — O, no ; and it 
doesn't concern us, nor the children either, I suppose, that 
this hot weather is making us miserable here, or that 
the vacation is passing with no recreation for the little 
dears. It doesn't concern us at all — O, no ! " 

"But the Joneses are able," I said ; "Mr. Jones has just 
got a large contract for furnishing clothes-pins for the army, 
and is in first-rate business besides. A trip to Saratoga or 
the White Mountains would ruin me." 

She saw, blessed woman, where the shoe pinched, and 
came at once to my relief and her own triumph, 

"Blifkins," said slie, "don't be ridiculous; how many 
more times do you want me to tell you so ? Who wanted 
to go to Saratoga? But you are always jumping at con- 
clusions fi-om the most absurd premises, I have a trip to 
the country in my mind, where we can rusticate for a fort- 



14 PARTINGTOKEAN PATCHWORK. 

night, and come back healthy and strong, from pure air 
and wholesome food. I have just the place in my eye." 

" Is it painful ? " I asked. 

" That's just the way with you," she said. " I never say a 
thing that you don't make light of it. O, go on, and laugh ; 
my feelings are of no consequence." 

" My dear," said I, penitently, " pardon me. I am now 
all attention, from the crown of my head to the sole of my 
feet. Drive on." 

This " drive on " expression is a favorite with me, be- 
cause I am naturally of a jockeylar turn. 

She then told me that an old friend of the family, Polly 
Simonds by name, had married a well-to-do farmer in 
Hardscrabble, and that Polly's sister had that afternoon 
called to inform her that Mrs. Doolittle — the Polly afore- 
said — would take a few boarders at one dollar per week, 
pro\'lded that the family were not to be " put out any," but 
take such food as they indulged in, and be, in fact, as mem- 
bers of the fimily. 

"Now I know," said Mrs. Blifkins, tapering off her 
story with an emphatic period, " that Polly is a good soul, 
and she knows what good living is, too, and her sister says 
she is so nicely situated ; and, Blifkins, we can't do better 
than shut up the house and go and enjoy a week in the 
country. Poor little Bub looks very spindling, and Me- 
linda Ann is a mere shadder. It makes my heart ache to 
look at them." 

" Not another word," said I ; " your logic is forcible, 
your reasoning unanswerable. But hold on a bit. Smith's 
note must be attended to the first of next week, and I have 
an engagement for Thursday. Now, if you can trust your 
devoted Blifkins till Friday, — a week from to-day, — and 
go on yourself with the children, I will rejoin you at that 
time." 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 15 

She thought it over, apparently meditating all the chances, 
when she brightened up and said, as Rebekah said to the 
servant of Abraham, " I'll go." I had a letter from her, tell- 
ing me of her arrival ; but it was very brief I got ready, 
and the next Thursday saw me on my way to Hard- 
scrabble. 

" Do you want to go to Hardscrabble Taown Haouse or 
to Deulittle's Misery ? " asked the driver of the conveyance 
labelled "Hardscrabble Stage," at the depot. It was a 
cast-off omnibus, of the " Governor Brooks " j^attern, that 
had done duty in the city in former years, and was in the 
last stage of dilapidation. 

" I don't know," I said, afiecting pleasantness. " I want 
to find a man called Derastus Doolittle, who resides in 
these parts, and you'll do much for Doolittle if you will 
take me to his pleasant mansion." 

I wondered to myself if "Doolittle's Misery" could be 
the place of i-est that was to recuperate our enervated 
powers, and felt assured that it was, a moment thereafter, 
by hearing a fat-looking man, with a surly face, say, — 

" Yas, that's it ; they're 'specting somebody from daown 
below. Drop him at Misery." 

Well, I thought, this is a cheerful prospect. Here I 
have run away from tribulation to find an abiding-place in 
Misery, How much I have made by the opei-ation re- 
mains to be seen. 

After a jolting ride of about five miles, the only passen- 
ger in the old omnibus, the wheels screeching and scream- 
ing as though they were fiends laughing at and deriding 
me, the vehicle came to a stand-still, and I was told that 
this was the Misery. There was no sign of a house in 
sight, and, upon asking the driver where Mr. Doolittle 
lived, he said, — 

"Haifa doUai-, squire," holding out his hand ; "take that 



16 PARTESTGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

'ere path — thankee — that runs down by the barn yen- 
der, and that'll lead you into the old stage road that goes 
right by his house. 'Tain't more'n a mile there." 

He left me at this, standing in the road, with my car- 
pet-bag in my band. The sun was well nigh down, and 
the long shadows were stretching away out over the land- 
scape. And tliis was Misery. I had but one thing to do 
— follow the man's directions, which I did. Arriving at 
the old stage road, I felt that it was all right, and trudged 
on like a volunteer. By and by two hogs, quietly reposing 
beneath a broken hay-cart by the wayside, and a crowd of 
turkeys roosting on a fence near by and on the trees over- 
head, assured me of my approach to a farm-house, and step- 
ping towards a very rickety looking gate, I was about 
entering to inquire for Doolittle, when a dog came at me 
furiously, which made me beat a hasty retreat. I heard a 
mustering of somebody inside, and immediately afterwards 
I heard the dog yeljD as if kicked, and a man's voice say, 
« Git aout ! " 

" Can you tell me," said I, timidly drawing nigh a pair 
of white shirt sleeves that I saw, amid the gloom, resting 
upon the gate, " where Derastus Doolittle lives ? " 

" Come from Boston ? " was the qiiestion in response. 

" Yes, sir ; but it is important that I find Mr. Doolittle ; 
and if you will direct me — " 

" What's the latest news of the war ? Have they caught 
Jeff Davis yet ? I tell 'em I don't believe they ever will 
ketch him. He's a mighty smart critter, and I tell 'em so." 

" But, my dear sir, will you be so kind as to direct me 
to Doolittle's, for my coat is thin, and I am getting 
chilled ? " 

"'J'his tax '11 be hard to bear just naow, but I s'pose we 
must pay it, — cuss 'em." 

I construed the anathema as applying to the rebels, and 




DOOLITTLE'S MISERY. — Page IG. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPEES. "17 

though I doubted not the man was a patriot tried and 
true, I wished he woukl abate enough of it, for the sake of 
hospitality, to tell me where Derastus DooUttle Uved. 

"Is that yon, Mr. Bhfkins?" said a voice coming from 
beyond the gate on which the arms were leaning; and 
in a moment the arms dropped from their position, my 
wife rushed at me with a ferocity almost equal to that of 
the dog, and I received a volley of kisses that i-eally were 
refreshing, indicating a return of feeling that I had sup- 
posed long ago dulled by domestic care, convincing me, 
besides, of the truth of the idea of T. H. Bailey's, that 
" absence makes the heart grow fonder." 

" Where is Doolittle's ? " said I, " and who is the fellow 
that I've been talking to ? " 

" That is he," she replied, in a whisper : " hush ! don't say 
a word ; he is a queer man, but he means well." 

Saying this, she opened the gate and we went in. Polly 
was at the door, and received me with the air of a sentry- 
box on 2J^i'''^de, and was as rigid as the big churn in the 
corner, wkich she much resembled in shape. She wore no 
hoops, however, and the churn did. She was about forty, 
and her face w^as as sharp and blue as faces look that have 
been running against a severe wind in winter. Her eyes 
were small and cunning gray, her lips firm and determined, 
and her hair twisted up on an old-fashioned high-backed 
comb, wliich made her look like an antique picture of 
Queen Elizabeth, lacking the ruff, though the rough was 
evidently there in other guise. 

Mrs. Blifkins introduced me, and she deigned me a 
liand ; but it was as cold as a toad, and as expressionless 
in its feeling as a hand of tobacco. Thei'e was no light in 
the room we entered, except a badly-burning tallow can- 
dle, in a tin candlestick, which was eclipsed by Mr. Doo- 
Uttle in an effort to light a clay pipe by it. My wife intro- 
2 



18 PAUTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

duced me to Mr. Doolittle, who made no reply, but puffed 
out a cloud of extra smoke, and, as he deposited the candle 
on the table, reached out a hand slippery with tallow for 
me to shake. After several whiffs, he asked, — 

" Bring up any papers ? " 

Handing him an " Extra," that I bought in the cars, he 
retired to a corner, Avhere he monopolized the light, and 
became with it obscured by the paper held before him. 

" Now, Mrs. Doolittle," said I, " the long ride and the 
long walk have provoked my appetite ; and if you will have 
the kindness to give me a bite of something, I will bestow 
on you my warmest blessing." 

" There wan't nothing left over," said she, with a slight 
touch, I thought, of mustard in her tone ; " but if you'd 
like some milk, you can hev it," 

" Certainly," said I ; " anything. Your good, sweet coun- 
try bread and new milk are fit for a prince. Let's have 
the milk, by all means." 

She went to fetch the milk, and I asked my wife about 
the children. All well. Then I asked how she was, and 
she said she was very well, excepting a little headache. 
" The result, my dear," said I, " of excessive indulgence in 
country luxuries, I fear. Prudence should attend you here 
as well as at home. I shall have to look after you." 

The reappeaiance of Polly silenced the conversation. 
She placed on the jDine table that stood in the middle of 
the floor a small pewter plate, not very bright, with a 
small bannock of bread, and a bowl containing about a 
pint of milk. 

"It's sweet milk, though it's skimmed," said she; "we 
let the new milk stand for cream." 

"Excellent economist!" said I, drawing up to the table 
with a feeling far from happy, for I thought I detected a 
leak in the commissariat ; and a lean larder in a country 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 19 

of plenty is an evil not to be endured. Some one has 
said that we should always rise from the table yet hungry, 
and be sure in this way to save ourselves from the sin of 
gluttony. I certainly was more hungry when I arose than 
when I sat down. 

It was now about nine o'clock ; and, as I sat at the 
window admiring the moon as it came up behind a skele- 
ton pine in the distance, Mr. Doolittle arose, folded his 
paper, and passed out of the room, leaving the candle on 
the table. 

" We all go to bed at nine o'clock," said Mrs. Doolittle, 
gathering herself up ; " it's the rules of aour haouse." 

She stood a moment to see if her shot had taken effect 
on me. I felt strongly opposed to moving ; but Mrs. Blif- 
kins arose with wonderful humility, I thought, and bore 
me from the room. A door slammed, and then another, 
a few smothered words came from a chamber adjoining 
that we were to occupy, and the house was still. Not so 
around the house. A flock of geese held a noisy council 
beneath our window, and a horse in an invisible barn had 
the St. Vitus' dance ; a pig was indulging in a swinish 
soliloquy ; a calf, ambitious of being veal, was mournfully 
eloquent ; and the dog, which had rushed at me, amused 
himself with a prescription of bark every half hour. There 
was no sleep for my eyes or slumber for my eyelids all that 
night. 

By daylight, startled from a cat-nap that had seized me 
in despite of untoward circumstances, I looked from the 
window, and saw Doolittle hauling a load of muck from 
the meadow. A more uncouth figure I never saw. Of 
course I didn't expect to see a man dressed in his best 
wliile hauling muck, and as certainly I had never expected 
to see a man look so badly. His properties would be in- 
valuable to an actor whose role was the desperate loafer. 



20 PiiHTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

No one part seemed to belong to the other part. At first 
I thought it some ponderous scarecrow that had walked 
away Ironi the field in a fit of eccentricity, and was dis- 
posed to try its terrifying properties in other quarters. 
But Doolittle's voice, in pleasant rebuke of the cattle, that 
seemed a little contrary at being called so early, satisfied 
me of his identity. 

" Stan' still, cuss ye ! " said the voice ; and there was no 
doubting Doolittle. 

I went down stairs, and joined him. He greeted me 
with a surly "good morning," and immediately began 
about the war, taking uj) the contents of the "Extra" I 
had given him, which he had apparently learned by heart. 
I took advantage of the first pause, and ran faster than 
the congressmen from Bull Run. I took all the bearings 
of the landscape, and found it as I have described at the 
outset of this letter. At about six o'clock, the blast of a 
tin horn signified to me that breakfast was ready; and I 
was prepared by my early exercise to do justice to it. I 
was pictui'ing to myself aldermanic biscuits, ham and eggs, 
sweet butter, creamy cheese, fried trout, new potatoes, a 
bit of fowl, served up on a snowy table. The misgiving 
of the night previous, however, crossed my mind, I must 
confess. What business had it there at such a time ? I 
entered the house to prej)are for breakfast, but found all at 
table, — wife, children, all, — including Mr. Doolittle in 
his muck rig ! I looked at Mrs. B. She colo^T. some, 
but said nothing. ,% 

■ " Come, fill to," said Mr. Doolittle. " Folks in the coun- 
try don't stand on no ceremony. Good a]ij>etites don't 
want no long graces. 'Eat and be filled' is our motter." 

I looked along the board for that which was to fill us. 
A plate of hard-baked corn bread stood near the centre of 
the table, flanked on one side by a dish of fried pork 



THE BLIFKINS PAPEES. 21 

swimming in fht, on the other by a dish of potatoes ; and 
this was all. 

" Lord, what a wretched land is this, that yields us no 
supply ! " came into my mind, but I didn't say it. 

" Will you have some dip ?" said Mrs. Doolittle. 

I was a little perplexed to know what she meant ; but 
as she tipped the dish with one hand, and held a spoon 
with the other, as if to bale out some of the fat, I guessed 
what it was, and declined, asking at the same time for a 
little butter. I found I had got my foot in a hornet's nest. 
The Doolittles looked at each other, and then Mrs. Doo- 
little spoke for both, saying, that butter was a cash article 
that they couldn't afford to indulge in themselves, and 
their boarders were to be as " one of the fimily." For her 
part, she thought pork was a great deal more " healthy " 
than butter, and was sorry I didn't like their fare. I could 
have done better, she dared say, at the hotel, where they 
charged more. 

I felt humbled, and confess that I came down to " di]}," 
as the Israelites came down to the pool of Siloam. I said 
no more, but thought it would be made up at dinner, I 
spent the morning with my children, and it seemed as long 
as three days in one. Dinner time came, and I looked for the 
summons very eagerly. Judge of my horror to find boiled 
I^ork for dinner, with the addition of potatoes and the cold 
bread ! At supper we had some preserved barberries, 
black tea, with brown sugar, and underdone saleratus 
bread. 

The next day was Sunday; and now, thought I, there 
mvist be a change in the bill of fare : then I can make up 
for the losses of yesterday. The breakfast was delayed till 
near eight o'clock, and, when summoned to it, the inevita- 
ble " dip " was there, and the corn bread ! I felt that I 
was a doomed man, and imagined myself an Edson, a 



22 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

living skeleton, going round tke country, showing myself 
at so much per sight. But I still hoped for dinner. There 
were fowls in the yard, whose magnificent proportions I 
had marked, and indulged in anticipatory images of pot- 
l)ies ; and, as I came from the church with Doolittle, I 
fancied which of them had become a sacrifice to my epi- 
curean taste, rather lamenting his fate. Needless thought. 
I was told by Mrs. Doolittle that she always cooked enough 
on Saturday for Sunday's dinner ; therefore she had boiled 
double rations of pork, which we were to eat cold. At 
supper we had the half baked bread and the sour barber- 
ries, and the black tea, sweetened with brown sugar, re- 
peated. 

I told Mrs. Bliflcins this morning, in a domestic council in 
chambers, that she and the children may enjoy this felicity 
to their heart's content, — live on pork till, like Jeshurun, 
they wax fat and kick, or squeal hke pigs, — but that I am 
no individual to surrender myself in this way, and as soon 
as the " dip " is disposed of this morning, I shall start on 
an excursion to Hominy Ridge, about three miles from 
this, where there is a hotel, and shall not come back to 
dinner. 

I leave this letter with her to send to you by the stage, 
as I haven't got strength to carry it to the post-office. 



II. 

BLIFKINS THE HOUSEHOLDEK. 

The situation of Blifkins's house is a very singular one, 
as, by some combination of circumstances, the snow al- 
ways drifts in front of his door. His next-door neighbors, 
on both sides of him, are not troubled in this way ; but 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. Z6 

when the snow before his house is piled as high as his chin, 
before theirs it is as bare as one's hand. Let the wind 
blow east, west, north, or south, it is the same. The com- 
pass is not made that has a point to favor him, so he says. 
It may be imagined, in this state of things, that he has 
considerable to do to keep shovelled oiF in a snow-storm, 
so that those gentlemen in blue coats and bright buttons 
shall have no hold upon him ; and the sums that he has 
paid in dimes for the performance of this work has 
amounted, in the course of a winter, to a snug little 
fortune, let us tell you. 

It was the morning after a great snow-storm that Blif kins 
called upon us. He looked, we saw at a glance, agitated 
and unhappy. Seating himself in our only spare chair, 
and holding his feet before our blazing fire as unconcern- 
edly as though the words, " Busy Day — Short Calls," were 
not hung outside the door, he said, — 

" Tough storm — wasn't it '? " 

We expressed to him in brief that we thought it was, 
and uttered the remark, with considerable confidence, that 
we should have more snow before the winter was out. He 
looked at us very seriously a moment, and then asked, — 

" Do you have to shovel olf in front ? " 

" Of course," we told him, " whenever we have occasion 
for it." 

" Yes," said he, sardonically, " that's what you all say, 
' whenever there's occasion for it,' which implies that there 
may be storms when there are no occasions for it. With 
me, now, if so little snow falls that an old woman could 
carry it off in her apron, there comes a drift before my 
door as high as my head. Queer — isn't it ? " 

We made further inquiries, and learned the facts. 

" I bought the house in August," said he, " and not a 
word was said about snow-drifts ; but the winter assured 



24 PAETESTGTONIAIT PATCHWOKK. 

me of the reason why the one I bought of was so nnxious 
to sell. The drifts arose to my Avindow-sills. I tried to 
get my taxes abated last year on account of it, but couldn't. 
I've tried to sell out, but nobody '11 buy. Every snow-storm 
four iDolicemen stand looking round the corners near my 
house, to pounce upon me in case I should fail to shovel 
off. It '11 cost me a fortune to hire it done." 

" Why don't you do it yourself? " we asked. 

"'That's just wliat my wife said," rcjilied he. " I got up 
yesterday morning, and, just as I expected, there was tlie 
drift as high as my head. ' Mr. Blif kins,' said my wife, 
' why don't you go out, now, and shovel it off yourself? ' 
Said I, in reply, ' Your counsel is excellent, and I think I 
will.' I at onc^ proceeded to prepare myself for the task ; 
but before I could get ready, there were five applications 
for the job, and five refusals. I pulled on a pair of long 
boots, tied a comforter round my ears, and went out. 
' You're going to pitch into it, I see,' said a voice, as I be- 
gan. 'Twas one of the policemen, and he looked, I thought, 
rather disappointed. 'You don't catch me this time,' said 
I. I commenced vigorously, throwing the snow aside with 
'heart of controversy.' But I began too fast. The fifth 
shovelful assured me that I had reckoned without my host; 
and I was almost tempted to abandon my undertaking by 
the offer of a deluding Hibernian gentleman, who insinu- 
ated that he might shovel it ' off for a quartier of a dolliar.' 
But an incidental remark seemed to reflect on my ability to 
perform the task, and I bade him depart. ' Are you almost 
done ? ' said my wife from the upper window. How un- 
reasonable these women are ! I pitched in, not deigning a 
rejDly. I grew very hot, realizing the philosophical fact of 
there being heat in snow ; strange I never noticed it be- 
fore ! ' Don't shovel the snow against the house ! ' said 
my wife from the ujjper Avindow. At that instant an ava- 




BLIFKIXS AXl) THK I'OIJCEMAX. — Page 24. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 25 

lanche carae from the roof, burying me in the snowy 
grave I had just been digging. 'Did it hurt you much?' 
asked my wife from lier upper point of observation. I 
replied to her, as soon as I could free myself, that it did 
not, and playfully essayed to throw a shovelful of snow at 
her. It fell short of its mark ; but the shovel found its 
way through three squares of my parlor window. ' Save 
the pieces ! ' said my wife, in an ironical tone. I looked 
at my damaged property with bitterness of spirit. It oc- 
curred to me that my neighbor's snow-shovel was better 
than mine, and I went to borrow it. When I returned, I 
found that some one had stolen my own shovel in my ab- 
sence. In a rage I smote the pave with the borrowed 
one, and broke it short ofi" in the handle, with a remark 
that sounded something like profanity. At this I with- 
drew from the field, determined to employ the first one 
who came along who wished to shovel me out. I waited 
all the forenoon, but no one carae. It was wonderful how 
they managed to keep away. In the afternoon I received 
a summons to appear before the police court by the hands 
of one of my watchful policemen, and have just returned 
from that august tribunal, where I have paid three dollars, 
without costs. So, reckoning my labor, the lost time, the 
stolen shovel, the broken one, the smashed window, the 
three dollars, and the aggravation, I think it don't pay." 

He ceased, and looked to us for sympathy. He miscon- 
strued our smile of pity for one of derision, and went off 
as mad as a percussion cap. 



26 PAETESrGTONlAN PATCHWORK. 

III. 

BLIFKINS THE MECHANIC. 

" Mr. Blifkins," said my wife, on the morning of wash- 
ing day, " Bridget complains that something is the matter 
with the. soft-water pump." 

" Well, my dear," I replied, — I am very careful to put 
in all the little tender teims on washing days, having found 
them serve admirably as moUifiers at such times, — "I will 
see about it." 

I had not quite finished reading my moroiing paper, and 
sat a moment to conclude the account of the last fearful 
casualty, when Bridget's face was thrust into the door, as 
red and bright as an old-fashioned brass warming-pan. 

"Indade, mem," said she, "the pump's gone again." 

" I wish you was," arose to my lips, but I didn't speak it. 

" Well," replied my wife, " I've done all I could about 
it, unless I am expected to draw the box and fix it. I ex- 
pect every day when I shall have to do such work. A 
woman's life is hard enough at the best, but a little addi- 
tional service would not hurt her, I dare say. Perhaps, in 
the intervals of household duties, she might take in jobs 
of pump-mending." 

I said nothing. 

" Mr. Blifkins," said my wife, " will you see to the 
pump ? " 

This was said in a tone that completely overcame the 
horror awakened by the casualty, and throwing the paper 
aside, I proceeded to the kitchen. I tiied the handle of 
the pump, and, sure enough, the water refused to flow. A 
few drops only oozed from the nose, and, as I plied the 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 27 

handle, the pump gave forth a rumbling sound, as though 
it were surly in its refusal to yield the accustomed su232)ly. 

" This is a pretty state of things for washing day ! " said 
my wife. 

" Well, my dear," said I, " I don't see how you can blame 
me for it. ' Thou canst not say I did it.' " 

I immediately essayed to take out the box. The screws 
that secured the top were rusty, and refused to turn. 

" Mrs. Blifkins," said I, " M'here is the hammer ? " 

" How should I know where the hammer is ? " she re- 
plied, " It is probably where you used it last. You leave 
everything for me to take care of. My father used to say, 
' A place for everything and everything in its place.' I 
wish all men were as particular." 

I remembered that I had used the hammer to repair a 
chicken-coop some weeks before, and, proceeding to the 
spot, I found it, rusty and dirty, lying just where I had 
left it. A system like this, closely followed, would prove 
of immense advantage ; for a memory of where an article 
was used would immediately suggest the spot where it 
was to be found. Returning to the kitchen, I commenced 
work. The rusty threads of the screws refused persistent- 
ly to yield ; but patience wins ; and after a half hour's 
sweating and fretting, I had the top removed, and the 
pump-box in my hand. There were evident signs of decay 
in the leather ; and bringing my natural ingenuity to bear 
upon it, I hammered, and tacked, and cut, and pulled, until 
I fancied that I had attained perfection in my elFort. 

"Mrs. Blifkins," says I, in my momentary satisfaction, 
" can you tell me the difference betwixt a man who mends 
pumps and a prune ? " 

Of couise she couldn't ; and I told her that one was a 
plum and the other was a plumber; whereat she was pleased 
to smile, though, I thought, rather derisively. 



28 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOKK. 

" Now we shnll see," says I, putting in the box, " the 
triumph of genius. Pour in some watei', Bridget, and as 
I pump, you shall see the water flow." 

I manned the brakes ; but in vain my effort. No effect 
was produced but the most painful sound — a sort of 
asthmatic wheezing, hke that of a porcine quadruped just 
expiring under the effect of a surgical operation upon his 
neck. My triumph changed, and my chipper notes par- 
took of a more tempestuous character, as I muttered an 
expression that nothing but the immediate circumstances 
could justify. 

"That's right," said my wife ; "I would talk in that way. 
It will help the matter, I dare say, very much. Men have 
got no patience. If they had to bear as much as women 
do, I don't know what would become of them." 

" I will bring mechanics," said I, a little subdued, " and 
they shall bring the pump." 

I immediately sought Lumb. 

" Send workmen," said I, " O man of lead pipe and solder, 
and mend that without which washing day becomes a Sab- 
bath without a sermon — for what were washing day with- 
out water ? " 

Two men accompanied me to my home — philanthro- 
jDists, with disposition and ability to relieve the difliculty 
under which I labored. 

"Now, my boys," said I, as I introduced them to the 
field of their operations, " put her through." 

The terra "her" struck Mrs. Blifkins as irrelevant, and 
somewhat personal, as I judged from her looks. No ba- 
rometer could be more exact than was her countenance to 
my experienced vision. 

" Look here, sir," said one of the men, trying the han- 
dle ; "there ain't nothing the matter with the ])ump." 

"Then what is the bother with the infernal thing?" I 
asked, excitedly. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 29 

" The principal reason is, I think, sir, that the cistern has 
gin out." 

I looked at the man wonderingly ; but his honest eye 
convinced me that he was sincere, and after examination 
proved the truth of what he said. 

" My friend," said I, " here is a trifle for you, and I wiU 
settle with Lumb. Don't say anything about it." 

I never knew how the matter came out, but always 
thought Mrs. Blifkins must have told of it. 



IV. 

BLIFKINS AND THE CAT. 

" Caee killed a cat," the old adage runs ; and Blifkins 
held care responsible for a feline corpus found in his front 
yard one morning. His experience in the premises being 
very trying, we essay its impartation as he told it to vis, as 
nearly in his own words as possible. Reader, imagine Blif- 
kins seated before you, telling the following : — 

" Mr. Blifkins ! " cried my wife from the kitchen on 
Sunday morning, the morning of all the week on which I 
like least to be disturbed. I rose on my elbow, before 
answering, and looked at my watch. It was only seven 
o'clock. 

"Mr. Blifkins !" the voice said again. It was wonder- 
ful how sleepy I was, and so I made no reply. What can 
call her up so early ? I asked myself It can't be break- 
fast yet, for that's an eight o'clock matter. I nestled down 
in the j^illows once more, and stretched myself diagonally 
across the bed, drawing my thousand nerves and sinews 
— more or less — out to their proper tension. What a 
luxury this is, to be sure ! 



30 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOKK. 

" Mr. Blifkins ! " said the voice, louder than before ; and 
immediately after a severe pinch on my bare arm assured 
me that my wife had come up stairs. I started up in af- 
fected surprised, and rubbing my eyes open, asked her if 
that was a proper expression of the regard she felt for the 
one she had vowed to love, cherish, and nourish, and all 
that. She replied by calling me a fool, in her most win- 
ning way, and told me that there was a dead cat in our 
front yard. 

"A dead cat!" cried I, tragically, jumping out of bed 
in a style quite melodramatic, though not very well cos- 
tumed. 

" Yes," said my wife ; it is right under the window, and 
is as big as a cow." 

I looked at her face where womanly truth was wont to 
shine, and repeated her remark, — 

" As big as a cow ! " 

" I mean," said she, " that it is a very large one com- 
paratively." 

" O," said I, completing my toilet by thrusting my right 
foot into my only slipper, and proceeded down stairs. 
There, sure enough, was one of the most monstrous cats I 
had ever seen. It was old and very gray, and there w^as 
a rigidness in its form that seemed to say, "I've come 
to stay with you;" speaking in dumb show as plainly as 
the big tnmk and many bandboxes that the stage drops 
at our door on anniversary week. I looked at it horror- 
struck. 

"Throw it into the street," said my wife, with that 
promptness which eminently fits her to be the captain of 
a company. 

" Can't do it, my love," said I ; " for I should render my- 
self liable by so doing ; if not to the law, at least to my 
own conscience ; for why should I offend the sight of my 
neighbors by the unseemly thing ? " 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 31 

" Bury it in the yard," said my wife. 

Now, considering that she has got every inch of our ter- 
ritory so closely planted with flowers that one can, in the 
season of them, measure odor and bloom by the cubic inch, 
that was impossible. I told her so. 

"I do wish, Mr. Blifkins," said my wife, "that you had 
a little more energy ; you ai'e not nearly so smart as you 
were twenty years ago." 

" True, my love," replied I ; " and in this respect there 
is a great difference between you and I, for I think your 
smartness has increased." I meant it for irony, but she 
took it as a compliment, and smiled upon me with that 
heavenly expression which resembles somewhat a slumber- 
ing hurricane. 

" Mr. Blifkins," said my wife, " throw it on the vacant 
lot round the cornei*." 

" What ! " replied I, " and poison the air of my neigh- 
bors ? Never." 

" What's the row ? " said my friend Wagg, going by. 

I told him in a few words my difficulty, to which my 
wife added a few soothing remarks of her own about 
" stupid husbands " and " never knowing how to do any- 
thing." 

" I'll tell you how to get rid of it," he said ; " draio it 
away." 

" Draw it ? " I queried. 

" Yes," said he, poking me under the ribs ; " draw it 
away with a cataplasm." 

He passed along laughing. My wife likewise indulged 
in a little cachinnation at my expense, which quite over- 
turned my little remaining resolution. 

" This morning air is too much for you, my dear," said 
I; "you had better retire to the house, and if you Avish 
to take further part in the inquest, I'll bring the carrion in." 



32 PAKTmGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

She Baw that I was moved, and went. 

There are, I knoAV by actual count, a thousand boys in 
our neighborhood. My peace by day and night is dis- 
turbed by them. Their whistling and howling awake me 
the first thing in the morning, and I am kept awake by 
them till late in the night. 

"Eureka! " said I, shipping my knee; "I'll have a boy." 

I don't know what my wife, who was surveying the 
scene from an upper window, thought of the remark ; but 
she drew in her head suddenly, like a clam. 

I looked up and down the street for a boy, and round 
the corners, and over into yards, and into all sorts of 
places; but they had strangely disappeared, all but a little 
boy who was studying his lesson for Sunday school, Avhose 
meditations I would not disturb. How welcome would 
have sounded the familiar yell, usually so annoying ! Thus 
I stood walking sentry over the remains for one hour, look- 
ing out as anxiously for a boy as a shipwrecked sailor for 
rescue. At last relief came. A boy appeared upon the 
scene, dragging along the limb of a tree, and making a 
wonderful dust. I beckoned to him. He stood still, with 
evident distrust, as I had threatened him many times with 
vengeful visitings for juvenile misdemeanors. 

" My little man," said I, " do you wish to earn some 
pennies for the Fourth?" at the same time shaking some 
coppers at liim, as they shake corn in a sieve in order to 
c;itch a horse. 

" Yes, sir," said he, with great alacrity. 

" Don't give him more than two cents," said my wife 
from the window. 

I put twelve into his hand, — six more than I had inten- 
ded, — and told liim to take that offensive object down to 
the river and throw it in. He started to do so with a grin 
that looked as though he had thrown it there himself; and I 



THE BLIFKLNS PAPERS. 33 

half suspected he did, for hefove he had gone a dozen yards 
from my house he was joined by ten others, who laughed 
so loudly that I heard them where I stood. But I was 
happy in being rid of my torment. 

Going into the house, the thought of the adventure as- 
sailed me, and thinking how similar the scene was to that 
wherein Burns turned up the mouse nest with his plough, 
I sat down and wi'ote this. 

Blifkins took a paper from his pocket, and adjusting his 
spectacles, read as follows : — 

TO A CAT, 

On finding one turned up in a corner of my front yard very dead. 

Thou howling, yowling, growling pussy, 
Thou night and day disturbing hussy, 
No more thou'lt wake the feeling fussy 

With thy fierce clamor. 
Driving the quietest to curse thee. 

Like tongs and hammer. 

Full many a night thou'st kept me waking, 
My nerves like aspen leaflets shaking, 
Till, some convenient missile taking, — 

A jug or boot, — 
I've dashed it in among ye, raking. 

And made ye scoot. 

Thy voice I knew, when fiercely bawling, 
'Bove all thy brothers' notes appalling, 
There, 'mid my flowers, pulling and hauling. 

And mischief making ; 
But thou hast stopped thy caterwauling, 

And no mistaking. 
3 



34 PAETENGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

And yet I'm sad to see thee lying, 

Though long my patience thou'st been trying; 

I look ujDon thee, no denying, 

With feeling sickening, 
And wonder how thou felt'st when dying 

Of sudden strychnine. 

Didst thou look back with thought regretful 
At making people vexed and fretful, 
Or that thy horn of joy, not yet full. 

Should be capsizen ? * 
Or grieve that thou wert such a great fool 

As eat the pizen ? 

Alas ! like many a fool that's human, — , 

Seen every day, or man or woman. 

Who grasp at pleasures fiir and bloomin', — 

Thou'st reckless bitten, 
And found too soon that sin's consurain' 

To man and kitten. 

He ceased reading, and after a moment's pause, asked us 
what we thought of it. We candidly told him that it was 
barely respectable, and by no means to be compared to 
Burns's Mouse " on turning one up." He smiled faintly, 
saying, " That's just what my wife said," and went out. 

* "Capsizen hisn porritch dishe." — Canterbury Tales. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPEES. 35 

V. 

BLIFKINS THE SUFFERER. 

Oke warm morning we met Blifkins with a patch over 
one of his eyes, and supposed it might be another attack 
of the amaurosis with which he had been troubled. He 
looked anxious and cai'e-worn, and in response to our morn- 
ing sahitation merely nodded as he attempted to go by. 

" What ! " said we, " going by without one woi*d or one 
shake of the hand ? " 

He stopped, and extended his dexter digits with a feint 
at cheerfulness, but failing very signally. "What's the 
matter with your eye? " we inquired, in a tone very sym- 
pathetic ; " fell down, eh, and trod on it ? " 

He lifted up the patch without saying a word, and 
pointed to his eye that looked — not exactly looked, 
cither, because it was nearly closed, and had a wide, dark 
circle around it, as though from a severe blow — very 
badly. 

" What did it ? " we said, much shocked. 

He opened his mouth, and slowly said, " Mosquitos ! " 

" For Heaven's sake ! what I " we said, greatly shocked ; 
" mosquitos did that ? " 

He nodded. 

" We adjure you, then, O Blifkins, in the name of friend- 
ship, to tell us how," we cried in great agitation ; and drag- 
ging the unfortunate fellow into a place where sedatives 
could be procured if needed, we bade him tell his story. 

" My wife," said he, lifting the patch and wiping his eye 
with the corner of his silk handkerchief, " is very much 
afraid of mosquitos. They are the pest of her life ; her 



36 PABTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

•worriment by night and by day. There cannot be a mos- 
quito anywhere in the neighborhood that does not find 
her, and they manifest their partiality by biting her, deem- 
ing her good to eat. They bite her face and hands, and 
neck and ankles, and — not to be further explicit — are 
generally fond of her as the New Zealanders are of mis- 
sionaries. During the warm evenings they pursue her 
unrelentingly. She shuts herself in darkness, that they 
may not see her, like the foolish partridge, that puts its 
head beneath a leaf, fancying that it is hidden. Compara- 
tively like, you understand, for Mrs. Blifkins would do no 
such ridiculous thing as that. Mosquito bars are no hin- 
drance, for if the bars are put up at the windows, the per- 
sistent things will come in through the open doors; and 
she declares, on her honor as a veracious Avoman, that 
she has known them to push up a window in order to get 
where she was. At any rate, she could not account for 
the window's being up on any other hypothesis. They 
do not allow her to sleep, and though I dose her freely 
with anodynes, and she thus slumbers, she has dreams of 
mosquitos that render sleep unrefreshiug. 

Last night we had retired, as usual, and I was fast going 
towards dreamland — had, indeed, become vmconscious of 
surroundings in a dim twilight of sense, — when her voice 
aroused me. 

"Mr. Blifkins," said my wife, "there he is !" 

I started up, and reached to the corner where the big 
cane has stood for twenty years with which I am some- 
time going to make myself wretched by braining a bur- 
glar, should one be so unfortunate as to enter my sanc- 
tuary. 

" Where is he ? " said I, seizing the cane, and jumping 
out of bed; "w^here is the marauding villain ?" 

"Ml'. Blifkins," said my wife, as she has a good many 



THE BLIPKINS PAPERS. 37 

times, " don't make a fool of yourself. I don't mean a 
burglar — 'tis a mosquito. He has bit me on my hand. 
Can't you hear him ? " 

I listened. The big ear of Dionysius could not have 
done more in the listening line than I did for fully five 
minutes, and then answered, "No." 

"Do you hear him?" said I, carrying the war into Afri- 
ca. There was no answer to my question, and her deep 
breathing assured me that she was asleep. I didn't be- 
lieve there was a mosquito within a quarter of a mile of 
the house, and went to bed again breathing orisons more 
profound than pious. 

I had got once more in a comfortable state; was, indeed, 
dreaming that a Houri, in a short striped dress, was pre- 
senting me with a bushel basket full of peaches, each of 
which would weigh a jiound, when I felt a sharp nudge 
in the side, that I deemed, in my obliviousness, to be a stab 
given by some dark assassin who was my rival. I was 
just going to perform some act of valor that might have 
eclipsed the braining of the burglar, when — 

"Mr. Blifkins! " said my wife. 

"Foul caitiif!" I cried, "down, down to — "' 

" Mr. Blifkins ! " repeated my wife, with another nudge 
sharper than the first, and I was awake. 

" What is the matter ? " said I ; " are you sick ? " There 
had been a bad case of the cholera in the neighborhood that 
day, and I feared its epidemic character, as I had seen 
some watermelon rinds in the sink the evening before. 

" No," she replied ; " but hear them mosquitoes." 

I raised myself on my elbow and listened, but could not 
catch a sound. It was near midnight, and everything was 
still as death. 

"I (lon't hear them," I said, vexed at being disturbed, 
and vv'as about lying down again. 



38 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

" There ! " cried she ; " there they are, plain enough." 

I hstened again, and heard a faint, murmuring sound, 
that at first I could not define. At last it came more dis- 
tinctly. 

" That," said I, " is the Brigade Band, serenading the 
newly-married couple over in Confederation Square." 

I was malicious in my triumph, I know. She said noth- 
ing in reply ; and after looking out of the window and hear- 
ing the distant music, as I could do distinctly through the 
open window, and, seeing a light still burning in a house 
far oiF, wondering whether somebody wasn't sick there, 
or was only being troubled with mosquitos, I went to bed 
again. 

How sweetly sleep comes to one after being thus dis- 
turbed ! I realized it, to its full extent, and almost ere my 
head touched the pillow the most delicious stupor seized 
me, in which I seemed to be borne away somewhere on 
invisible wings, breathing airs blown over multitudes of 
opening roses and everlasting beds of clover. I had just 
bidden farewell to earth, resolved on making a settlement 
in the beautiful region where I found myself and becoming 
a squatter sovereign on celestial territory, and had begun 
a speech appropriate to the occasion to a crowd of angelic 
beings who stood around, when a voice, that I knew to be 
my wife's, said, — 

" Mr. Blifkins ! Mr. Blif kins ! there they are again." 

" Let them stay there, then," said I, " and we'll stay 
here." 

The perfume of the roses, and the clover, and the heav- 
enly scenery vanished under the influence of my wife's 
elbow, and I immediately knew I was anywhere but in 
heaven. 

" What is it ?" said I, as j)ettishly as a child cutting its 
teeth ; and mine always have been cutting their teeth, if 
pettishness is any sign. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 39 

" Hear the plaguy mosquitos," rejilied my wife, thresh- 
ing the air as if she were frantic. 

I listened again, this time to detect that the sound Avas 
the complaint of a dog in a neighbor's shed, whose bark 
was deadened by the intervention of partition walls. Says 
I, rising up, getting out of bed, and lighting a lamp, — 

" Mrs. Blifkins, I can stand this no longer, and will not. 
I must sleep ; and here I declare to you in the solemnity 
of this deep midnight, that though mosquitos come as 
single spies or in battalions, come in the sonorous tones of 
a brass band or as the howling of a cur, come in their own 
natural voice or with no voice at all, ' I'll to my couch 
again, and try to sleep it into morn.'" 

I threw myself on the bed, murmuring, " Come, 

' Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleave of care, 
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, 
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 
Chief nourisher in life's feast.' " 

Perhaps I mixed the quotation up a little, for before I got 
well to the end of it I was fast asleep. 

How long I remained thus I don't know ; but I was 
awakened by a violent blow in the eye, that made me see 
lights enough to supply a whole Fourth of July night with 
coruscations. The first thought I had was the bui-glar; 
the second, that Mrs. Blifkins had been taken suddenly 
insane, and was making me a sacrifice to her fury. This 
seemed borne out by the fact : for, upon opening my eyes, 
she stood over me with a lamp in one hand, and some arti- 
cle of clothing in the other, rolled up like a boxing-glove, 
with which she had given me one punch in the eye, and 
from the expression of her face I thought she was just 
about giving another. 

" For Heaven's sake," said I, " Avhat is the matter ? " and 



40 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK:. 

jumped out of bed with an alacrity that I did not deem 
myself capable of 

" I thought it was a mosquito," replied she, with gi'eat 
indifference in her tone, as I thought ; " but I see now it 
was only the mole on your cheek!" 

" Blast the mosquitos," cried I, infuriate ; " and in 
future, Mrs. BHfkins, before you attempt to kill mosquitos 
on my flice, be sure they are what you suppose, and be 
careful of buttons." 

I pointed out to her the abrasion of the skin that a but- 
ton on her mosquito exterminator had caused, and she was 
dutifully sorry ; but that wouldn't prevent the black eye I've 
got this morning, you know, nor restore the sleep lost for 
the rest of the night. 

"Bad — isn't it?" said he, lifting up the patch 9*gain. 
"Hereafter," continued he, " during the mosquito season, 
I'm going to sleep down cellar." 

We tell the story nearly as he told it us, and leave the 
world fco draw its own moral from it, provided it has one. 



YI. 

BLIFKINS THE AUTHOR. 

"I am going to write for the press," said Blifkins, as his 
wife asked him what he had under his arm when he came 
home one day. He laid upon the table, as he spoke, a half 
ream of paper, a box of steel pens, a pint bottle of ink, four 
sheets of blotting paper, a pot of mucilage, a newjnkstand, 
and a bunch of pen-holders. " I am going to write for the 
press," he said, " and my name shall hereafter be known as 
one of its most honored contributors." 



THE BLIFKCSrS PAPERS. 41 

He said it gayly, with an assumed light-hearteclness that 
he often put on when met with similar questions as, 
" Where have you been ? " " Who have you seen ? " and 
the Hke. In this instance, however, there was more of 
truth than marked his answers at times, because at those 
other times there was an acerbity in the tone of the ques- 
tions that caused irritation, and the answers swerved occa- 
sionally from the line of honest confession, as the mag- 
netic needle will vary under peculiar influences. 

" Yes," continued he, " here, in the quiet of my own 
home, surrounded by sweet domestic influences, will I 
build me up a flibric of fame, and place the name of Blif- 
kins among the stars." 

Mrs. Blif kins, with the spirit of a true helpmeet, simply 
said, "Nonsense!" and Blif kins, taking his stationery, 
moved up stairs to the place which he called his " study." 
He adojDted this room and christened it his study in con- 
formity with a belief he had long held that every one 
should have a place for retirement, where, the world shut 
out, the soul could confer with itself and become beatified 
in the atmosphere of peace. The room was unfortunately 
located for quiet, as below it was the piano-room, where 
the elder childx-en took their lessons, above it the nursery, 
where the younger ones pui'sued their games, on the right 
of it the reception-room, on the left of it the sewing-room, 
provided with a sewing-machine, back of it a broad stair- 
way, and it fi-onted on the busiest street in town. But 
Blif kins put a desk in one corner of it, hung up a shelf for 
the accommodation of Worcester's Dictionary, and a The- 
saurus of English Words, stretched a map of Boston on the 
wall, and called it his " snuggery," his " study," his " sanc- 
tum," veiy pettingly. 

Here was to be the field of his trials and his triumphs, 
and here he brought his stationery preparatory to the in- 



42 PAHTINGTOXIAISr PATCHWOEK. 

tellectual flights he meditated. He sat down at his desk, 
and arranged everything in the most jirlic'ous order, and 
all wore a very literary aspect. Blifkins looked admiringly 
upon the work of his hands, which was to be succeeded by 
the work of his head, and dipped his pen in the inkstand, 
ready to begin when the inspiration should come. 

Artemus Ward says that " eveiy man has his fort." 
Blifkins knew this, and wondered what his "fort" was. 
He thought it could not be poetry, for he despised the 
effeminacy of rhyme ; neither could it be history, for he had 
no sympathy with the ponderous sentences of the histori- 
ans. He felt that it was on the field of romance that he 
was to excel, and he realized a glow of enthusiasm as he 
reached this conclusion. Here he would compete with 
Cobb, and Ingraham, and Murray, and win a fame coeval 
with that of those stars in the literary firmament. 

Everything depends, of course, upon a title, — all roman- 
cers know this, — and the best story the world ever saw, 
without the sensational prefix, might as well noiver have 
been written, so far as popular favor is concerned. Its 
perusal must be confined to the interest of a few friends, 
and then forgotten. "The Bloody Handspike, or the 
Pirate of the Coral Reefs," contains a story in the very title ; 
so does " The Eleven Giants of Castile, or the Ghost of the 
Alhambra; " and so does " The Wolfs Nest of the Pyrenees, 
or the Doom of Domville." Blifkins sat there, with his 
pen between his fingers, thinking of a title. For full fif- 
teen minutes he sat thus, looking down upon his sheet of 
paper, wdiich lay in unprofined j^uiity before him, occasion- 
ally running his fingers through his hair, as though en- 
deavoring to harrow a title up from tlie roots of it. But the 
title wouldn't come. At last, his feelings wrought to their 
utmost tension, the idea came to him as the shower of gold 
did to the young sjoendthrift, who, when reduced to his 



THE BLIFKESTS PAPERS. 43 

last penny, essayed to liang himself, agreeably to a pleas- 
ant codicil in his father's will recommending such course, 
and pulled the treasure about his ears that the wily old 
gentleman had placed behind the fatal beam. The idea 
came, and Blif kins wrote — 

i " The Cruise of the Seven Potties : 

* A Tale of the Sea. 

"At the close of a lovely day in the autumn of 1816, the 
sun sinking beneath the western wave, leaving behind a 
trail of effulgent glory, bathing every object m its crimson 
light, the Seven Follies came to her moorings in Ossipee 
Bay. Her captain was a mere youth, but upon his brow 
were discernible the marks of deep care, and as he gazed 
earnestly towards the shore, he said to the first officer, who 
leaned listlessly over the rail — " 

" Mr. Blif kins ! " 

The sudden call from below startled Blifkins from his 
meditation, and he forgot what the captain was going to 
say. It was his wife's voice that had threatened the story 
of the "Seven Follies." 

" Mr. Blifkins ! " 

The cry came louder this time, and Blifkins, opening 
the door, inquired, in a voice as vehement as a melodramic 
boatswain's — 

" What do you want ? ' 

" Mr. Blifkins, will you come down and get some coal? 
The fire is out in the grate, and mercy knows I have to 
work hard enough without going down cellar after coal, 
though some men think it is a woman's place to do so, and 
to do all sorts of drudgery, while they sit down and fold 
their hands, and have nothing to do." 

More was said, but Blifkins closed the door, and the 
rest subsided to a murmur. He left his story upon the 



44 PABTIKGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

table, and went down to perforin the required service. He 
was an adept in bringing up coal, he had got so used to 
it. At whatever time of night or day he might be in 
the house, he was called upon to bring coal. He was 
chained to an unbending destiny that had coal for its for- 
mula. An English friend of the family called him a " hod 
fellow ; " and it was a pleasant thing for him to say, " Poor 
Tom's a coaled," which melancholy and sombre joke 
always elicited a smile. Blifkins was wont to express the 
belief that if he was at the last mortal strait, his thoughts 
reaching into the unseen world, he Avould be recalled by 
the demand for coal — a forcible but very preposterous 
idea. 

Having discharged this duty, he again retired to com- 
mune with the " Seven Follies." He sat down at his desk 
and read what he had written, but he couldn't recall what 
the youthful captain was going to say. He took out his 
penknife, nnd unconsciously whittled away at his pen-holder, 
until the floor was covered with chips. 

" Mr. Blifkins," said his wife, suddenly breaking upon 
him from a side door like an avalanche, "aren't you mak- 
ing a pretty mess here? Look at these chips now. You 
won't be so ready to gather them up, I dare say. But no 
matter — it is only another grain added to the burden. 
' The Cruise of the Seven Follies ! ' So this is what you 
have been doing? Well, what did he say?" 

"Upon my word," said Blifkins, "I haven't the least 
idea, at present ; it was in my head, but was entirely driven 
out by a hod of coal." 

" That's it, Mr. Blifkins, that's it," said she ; " make me 
responsible for everything ; I dare say you will accuse me 
of destroying your apj^etite next. Think of a poor avo- 
man's duties, and then you will never make so much fuss 
because you have to get a hodful of coal in a day." 



THE BLIFKESrS PAPERS. 45 

BHfkins gronnecl, and Mrs. Blif kins went out, slamming 
the door after her. 

" He said to the first officer, who leaned listlessly 

over the rail — " 

A bran new pen hovered over the sentence to finish it, 
and the eyes of Blifkins, in a fine frenzy rolling, stared 
fixedly upon the page before him. At last he threw the 
manuscript into his desk, and went out, impressed with the 
idea that the influences were unfavorable for inspiration, 
and that a man could not tap himself, like a cider barrel, 
for thought when he chose ; particularly inveighing, in his 
own mind, against the coal hod that had smothered his 
idea. 

"What did the captain say?" Mrs. Blifkins inquired 
the next day at dinner, with a mischievous twinkle of her 
eyes. 

Blifkins pushed back his chair, and went up to his 
" study," remarking before he went that he would show 
people that some things could be done as well as others — 
an exceedingly original remark, which went to show the 
lively nature of Blifkins's fancy. 

" He said to the first officei', who leaned listlessly 

over the rail — " 

" What the deuce did he say ? " said Blifkins, dipping 
his pen again and again into the inkstand, as though the 
word were in there, and he were trying to dig it out. He 
was in the condition of the man who had ideas enough, 
but couldn't think of them. 

Click ! click ! click ! click ! 

The sewing-machine in the sewing-room sent up a pleas- 
ant note; Mrs. Blifkins and a neighbor were discussing do- 
mestic economy in the sitting-room ; Mary Jane thrummed 
the piano in the room below ; above, the children " volleyed 
and thundered ; " the little boy was dragging his truckle- 



46 PAItTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

cart down stairs ; and in the street an alarm of fire made 
noise enough to drown the crash of the Union when it 
breaks. 

Poor Blifkins seized his hat and rushed out in a condi- 
tion bordering on despair. 

We were in his study a few days since, and as we sat 
conversing with him he told us his experience, the ambi- 
tion that had inspired him, and its failure. 

" Mr. Blifkins," said a voice on the stairs, "will you 
come down and bring up some coal ! " 

He looked at us sadly, and went out like a lamj? jjoorly 
trimmed. We lifted a sheet of paper from the floor, and 
upon looking at the writing found it to be — 

"The Cruise of the Seven Follies : 
A Tale of the Sea. 

"At the close of a lovely day, &c., &c., &c., he said to 
the first officer, who leaned listlessly over the rail — " 
And that is all that the world will ever know of it. 



VII. 

BLIFKINS THE COASTER. 

Blifkins paid us a winter morning call, and asked us 
if we had ever thouglit of the danger to pedestrians, of 
" coasting." We told him that we thought, as that practice 
of the boys was now confined to the Common, and was all 
the time under the eye of the police, it was not well to 
say anything about it, because the boys must play some- 
where, and if we could keep them from the streets, that 
was as much as we might reasonably expect. He gave 
what seemed a very unwilling assent to this, and said, 
*' Perhaps so." 



THE BLEFKINS PAPERS. 47 

" What do you mean ? " we inquired. 

" Nothing," he replied, " of any value to anybody but 
myself, as the advertisements of lost wallets say. I've 
been thrown." 

" Ah," we said, " that alters the position of things." 

" Certainly," he replied, with a sepulchral laugh. " It 
altered mine." 

" How was it?" we asked. 

"Why," said he, "as I was passing down the Park 
Street Mall, indulging in an attempt to call to mind a 
commission with which Mrs. Blifkins had intrusted me, 
and was necessarily considerably confused, my ear was as- 
sailed by the cry of, ' TJlla, uUa ! ' which arrested my at- 
tention, inasmuch as it brought to memory my early expe- 
riences in Constantinople, where the cry, Allah il Allah 
was frequently heard. I was then struck by the sound, 
and in a moment more was struck by something more tan- 
gible, as a boy's head was thi'ust between my legs, and I 
was thrown violently on my back, with my legs elevated 
in the air like the two masts of a schooner. I could not 
rally ray faculties for some time to determine the charac- 
ter of the disaster; but I found myself going onward with 
great velocity, while a voice beneath me cried out, vehe- 
mently, ' Get off o' my back ! ' The wind was high at 
the time, and my hat, taking advantage of my position, 
basely seceded, rolling away on its rim with a frantic ex- 
ultation, seemingly, at its freedom. I came to the conclu- 
sion, before I came to the foot of the hill, that I was a vic- 
tim of ' coasting ; ' and, indeed, with my feet elevated, I 
bore no inapt likeness to a fore-and-after scudding under 
bare poles. Upon getting on my legs, I found that I had 
been an object of great interest among the boys, who had 
regarded my involuntary race as a thing for competition 
and gave me three cheers and a tiger, as they gathered 



48 PAETINGTOlSnAJSr PATCHWORK. 

round me, at my success ; for our sled, from the increased 
momentum caused by my fall, had come in several lengths 
ahead. But glancing uj^on the spectators who had marked 
my feat, my horror was great to observe one of my female 
neighbors, would, I knew, at once convey the news of my 
discomfiture to Mrs. Blifkins. 

"'Gracious goodness!' said she. 'Mr. Blifkins, who 
would have thought it? I declare I never saw such a 
sight before ! ' 

" 'Probably not, ma'am,' I reijlied, somewhat chagrined, 
' because, as I approached you in the manner I did, the 
sight must have been behind.' 

" I was abundantly avenged. She looked at me with a 
grim smile, and went to tell my wife, which she did with 
a regard for embellishment that stamped her as an artist 
of much brilliancy of -fancy. My hat Avas stoj^ped by a 
friend's 2Jutting his foot in it." 

He ceased his narration, and asked what we thought of 
it. We told him that it was another capital illustration 
of the mutability of earthly things, of our danger of fall- 
ing even when feeling most secure, and of the ups and 
downs in life. We still clung to the idea that the boys 
must have their fun ; and made him at last admit that, if 
he had used proper care, and kept his eyes open, the ac- 
cident and its attendant mortification could not have 
occurred. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 49 

VIII. 

BLIFKINS THE MOURNER. 

"Bless my soul ! " said Blifkins, as he took up a morn- 
ing paper ; " so poor Whiffletree is dead — thrown out of 
his carriage, eh ? How suddenly these things do come 
upon us, to be sure ! Here to-day and there to-morrow. 
Heigh-ho ! " 

It was a deep sigh that Blifkins brought up from the 
depths of his feelings, and he lighted a fresh cigar, to do full 
justice to the subject that filled him. 

" He was not so old as I am by ^hree years," he rumi- 
nated ; " seemed likely to live for a great while, and be a 
blessing to — to — livery stable keepers ; and here he is, 
now, swept away like the blaze of a candle, or the ashes 
of a cigar ! Rather rough ; but death takes us at any dis- 
advantage, and we are gone before we think of it. I won- 
der how much he has left ? Not much, I guess, for he has 
lived close up to his means, if he hasn't exceeded them, 
and his wife doesn't know the first step of prudence." 

Who may know, beyond conjecture, what tribute he 
paid to the economical virtues of Mrs. Blifkins in this re- 
flection ! Not a word was uttered ; but how natural it 
was to let his mind revert to the many modes of saving 
inaugurated by that excellent woman, which, though re- 
garded a bore by himself, nevertheless kejDt money in his 
pocket. Anybody else would have thought of this ; but 
Blifkins, it must be remembered, is a "brute," as Mrs. 
Blifkins has many times affectionately remarked, and has 
not those nice perceptions of womanly excellence, it is 
feared, that he has of cigars. 
4 



50 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

" Poor "VVhifiletree ! " he continued. " It isn't a week 
since I played billiards with him. Capital player ! Gave 
me twenty-five, and beat me. Promised to teach me his 
game ; but guess he will have something else to think of. 
Wonder when he is to be buried? 'To morrow at three 
o'clock, from his late residence in Puddle Lane.' Well, 
'tis the last I can do for him, and I'll attend his funei'al. 
PoorWhif!" 

He concluded his cigar; but he could not banish the 
accident from his mind. Whiffletree infused himself into 
all his business. He drew a check payable to Whiffletree. 
He addressed a telegraph despatch to Whiffletree. He 
asked his clerk if any letters had been received from 
Whiffletree. At night he went home dispirited, and told 
Mrs. Blifkins what had happened. She is a woman of 
wonderful calmness, and heard it with great placidity, re- 
marking that she was sorry he hadn't been a better man. 
For her part, she said, she wondered why men of respec- 
table families could associate with such people as he had 
been, and thought it very strange — she would not say 
desirable — that the accident hadn't happened years be- 
fore. This, of course, awakened Blifkins to a defence of 
his friend, and a few moments were spent in a delightful 
interchange of sentiment, that ended in deeper contem- 
plativeness on his part, and a more general withdrawal of 
Mrs. Blifkins into her domestic pux-suits, firing an occa- 
sional shell, as the turret of her thoughts revolved to a 
proper bearing, to which Blifkins was oblivious. He was 
asleep on the sofa. 

The next day he adhered to his determination to go to 
the funeral, though no further remark was made on the 
subject. Blifkins had found that, as matters became liable 
to provoke discussion, it was better that they should be 
dropped ; and Whiffletree was banished forever from that 



THE BLIFKUSTS PAPERS. 51 

precinct. He went down town in a humor not the hap- 
piest, and his displeasure was heightened by the fact that 
the shares bought by his partner in the Universal Wash- 
ing-machine and Clothes-pin Manufacturing Company had 
fallen in value five per cent, by the last report from the 
Brokers' Board. 

Every one has noticed that when one has an object in 
view, particularly if he wishes to go away, a thousand 
things rush in to prevent its accomplishment. Thus it was 
with Bhfkins. As the hour of three arrived, it seemed as 
if Dame Fortune had taken that moment wherein to ply 
him with business, and he thought that she had, in her 
blindness, made a mistake regarding the time of day. He 
had, as it was, to leave several things to be finished up by 
the clerks and his partners, and started at the time to at- 
tend the funeral. 

" Puddle Lane ! " said he to himself. " Where the deuce 
is Puddle Lane ? " 

" Did you speak to me, sir ? " inquired a voice by his 
side. • 

" No, sir ; I was talking to myself," replied BUf kins, a 
little sharply. 

" Ask pardon, sir," said the owner of the TOice. " Con- 
gratulate you on having so pleasant a companion." 

"Where's Puddle Lane?" Blifkins inquired of a cab- 
man standing at a corner. 

" I'll carry yer there," was the reply. " Can't tell yer, 
because it would be agin my biz." 

" Mercenary wretch ! " thought Blifkins ; " and I going 
to poor Whifiletree's funeral ! " 

" Puddle Lane, sir," said a seedy-looking individual, with 
a red nose, standing by, " is up to the West End, sir, near 
the hospital. Take the right hand corner arter you come 
to the school-house, and then — let me see : one, two, three 



62 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

— the fourth turn is Puddle Lane, You can't help miss- 
ing it." 

" Thank you," said Blifkins, handing hira a specimen of 
postal currency, which the man, with a slight cough, de- 
posited in his waistcoat pocket. 

Blifkins went as directed, but found, when he had ai*- 
rived at the West End, that he had not got from the man 
who directed him the name of the street where the school- 
house was located, nor the name of the school-house itself. 
He asked a little colored boy if he could tell him where 
Puddle Lane was, who set up a fearful cry, as though he 
(Blifkins) had been a slave-catcher ; and he scarcely dared 
inquire again. Going on a block farther, he came to a 
school-house, and, trusting to luck, he turned the corner, as 
directed by the man. He went along counting the streets, 
and, looking down the one corresponding with the direction, 
he saw a number of carriages standing before a door, and 
felt that he was right. He went to the door, rung the bell, 
and was admitted. 

The services were nearly concluded, the closing portion 
of which dwelt with particular earnestness upon the vir- 
tues of the deceased, to which he listened with delighted 
surprise, and thought to himself what a triumphant an- 
swer it would be to Mrs. Blifkins's charges, could she hear 
what was said of his deceased friend, and wondered how 
he had done so much good without his knowing it. It 
occurred to him, indeed, that the good man was laying it 
on a little thick regarding his virtues, and estimated the 
chances of Whiffletree himself, in shadowy presence, being 
there, blushing at praise which, at least, appeared rather 
exaggerated. If such a thing is permitted as " coming 
back," — and, indeed, do we go? — many a ghostly cheek 
must redden at hyperbole which partial lips express — 
hardly deserved. But the time prompts to kindness, and 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 63 

this excused, if it did not justify, the eulogy to the mind 
of Blifkins. 

" Do you ride with the mourners ? " an attendant asked, 
with a subdued voice. 

" I hardly know," replied Blifkins, in a deep whisper ; 
" but I was one of his most intimate friends." 

" What name, sir ? " was asked. 

" Blifkins," he whispered, " Benjamin Blifkins." 

The man left him, and the caUing commenced. Very 
soon he heard his name uttered ; and, entering the coach, 
he found himself vis-a-vis with a remarkably fine-looking 
young woman, — a friend of the family likewise, — whose 
dark eyes scanned Mr. Blifkins very inquiringly as he en- 
tered. Her ftice was one of the conversational sort that 
provoke address — bright and sparkling, with an epigram 
in eveiy line of it. The others in the coach were grave 
people, — excellent for mourners at anybody's funeral, — 
with no talk in them. After riding some distance, Blif- 
kins began : — 

" 'Twas a very sad affixir, madam." 

" Yes, sir," was the reply ; " but it must happen to all 
of us sooner or later." 

" Very true ; but it was so sudden ! " said Blifkins. 

" Yes ; but he has been going rather fast lately." 

" Ah, he has, I know. And therefore I wonder at the 
nature of the remarks that were made." 

" He was always ready." 

Blifkins nodded ; yet he couldn't reconcile the word 
" ready " with anything but a team and a pair of runners. 
He settled at last upon the argument with which he met 
the address, — kindness for the departed, — but remained 
silent for some time. 

" Have you known him long? " the lady asked. 

" He was the friend of my early days — one of the best 



64 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

of fellows — possessed very few foibles, though some 
were severe upon him — called him a little fast, you 
know." 

"Fast?" and her eyes blazed as though she was very 
much astonished. There was a little fun in the tone, too, 
he thought. 

" Well, yes," he replied ; " some Avould call it so ; but 
those who knew him well enough to allow for the exuber- 
ance of his generous spirit, would give it a softer name." 

" Did you say ' exuberance of spirit ' ? " she almost 
screamed, causing the other persons in the coach to look 
round. 

" I did," said he. " I have been with him myself when 
he might be open to the suspicion that has been breathed. 
Have seen him, indeed, at times, when he was not in con- 
dition to lead in class-meeting ; yet a more honest and 
better-hearted fellow it was never my lot to meet." 

The lady covered her face with her handkerchief, and 
Blifkins saw, as he supposed, the ill he had done in har- 
rowing up her feelings by a recital of his good qualities. 
Her agitation was very marked, and she remained silent 
for some time. At last she looked up, without the trace 
of a tear in her eye, and said, — 

" How well you must have known him ! The character 
you have given him is very correct, though I must say that 
I never saw — " 

Here the carriage stopped, and the driver, letting the 
steps down, interrupted the sentence she had begun. 
Blifkins handed the lady out with proper ceremony, and, 
offering his arm, they joined the procession, moving sol- 
emnly and peacefully through the shades of Mount Hope, 
that charming resting-place for the dead. An ojDportunity 
was to be afforded here to see the deceased ; and Blifkins, 
as he went along, plucked a leaf from an overbending tree, 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 55 

which he was going to place in the casket, and recalled 
those sweet lines of Halleck's, repeated so often, — 

" Green be the turf above thee," &c. 

Gathering in a solemn circle, amid the most impressive 
stillness, each stepped forward to take the last look. It 
was Blitkins's turn, and, with demure countenance, he 
prepared to take his final leave of his friend, when, as he 
looked into the stony face before him, he saw, not Whiffle- 
tree, but Deacon Hai-dhead, a man whose reputation for 
closeness had won him a name by no means desirable, and 
who once had become possessed of a note of Blif kins' s, 
which he jDressed with most persistent energy till he paid 
it, putting him to some considerable inconvenience to raise 
the funds at a time when money was scarce. Blifkins had 
hated him cordially ever since ; and to find himself now 
one of a retinue to do him honor, and his friend Whiffle- 
tree denied his tribute, caused a feeling that he could not 
overcome. Even his fair companion could not reconcile 
him to the false position he was in, — at the wrong funeral^ 
— and, stopi^ing the carriage at the fiist railway track, he 
rode to town in the horse-car, feeling that he had been 
outrageously swindled. 

It all came from that mischievous man's direction, for 
everybody knows that Puddle Lane isn't in that part of 
the city. 



66 PAKTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

IX. 

MR. BLIFKINS SEES KEAN. 

" I SHOULD like to see Kean," said Mrs. Blifkins, at the 
breakfast table, reading a very eulogistic criticism of the 
Keans. I suppose, however, that I. must do without it, 
though Mrs. Brown has been, and says he is divine." 

" Like to see Kean ?" replied Benjamin, jDoising his cup 
on the Avay to his mouth. " I never saw one that could 
see keener. Those eyes, whose rays outshine the morn, 
have the penetration of gimlets." 

" Now, do make yourself ridiculous ! " said she, though 
a little moved by the flattery ; and Blifkins, before he left 
the house, assured Mrs. B. that she should see Kean that 
evening. 

This Avas on Thursday. Mr. Blifkins went to the store. 
There was an unusual I'ush of business during the day, 
and at five o'clock he set out, perspiringly, for home. He 
reached a horse-car that was passing, full to its utmost 
capacity, and, catching the rail, he swung himself on to 
the platform, where he hung by one foot, like a fly, one 
gentleman pufiing a broadside of tobacco smoke into his 
face, and another diffixsing the same through his back hair, 
which came out around the rim of his hat, like steam from 
around a wash-boiler cover. There was some obstruction 
on the track, and Mr. Blifkins, in thinking of the home 
comfort tliat awaited him, was disturbed. 

"These cars are nuisances," said he, spitefully. 

" So are you," said an obese man, who was hanging to 
the same rail with himself 

" Why ? " Blifkins asked, with some siu-prise. 



THE BLEFKINS PAPERS. 57 

" Because you have been kicking ray corns ever since 
you got on here," said the obese man ; " and if I hadn't 
seen jest how you was yitoowated, I'd ha' pitched ye off." 

Blif kins's first thought was resentment ; but his second 
thought, as lie looked at the obese man, was 2:)acific. It 
was nearly six o'clock when he arrived home, where he 
found Mrs. B. arrayed in all the magnificence of toilet of 
which her wardrobe was susceptible ; and to his inquiry 
if she was going out, she opened her eyes wide with as- 
tonishment, and said, — 

" Certainly ! I'm going to see Kean. Where are the 
tickets ? " 

Blifkins was a truthful man generally ; but he dared 
not encounter that eye whose rays outshone the morn, as 
he had said in the morning, and he rei)lied, while pretend- 
ing to look out of the window, — 

" Couldn't get 'em. All sold befoi-e I got down town." 

Mrs. Blifkins was exceedingly provoked ; but as it was 
so evidently a case of ill luck, rather than stupidity, on Mr. 
Blifkins's part, she merely said that it was always the way, 
— she never lotted on going anywhere in her life that 
there was not some disappointment attending it, — and 
subsided into silence over her tea. 

" You know I can't go to-morrow night, Benjamin," said 
Mrs. B., " because the sewing circle meets here." 

" True," said Blifkins ; " but as I go down, I will step 
in, and buy some tickets for Saturday night, ahead of any 
of them, and then we can have a choice of seats." 

This being the understanding, a pleasant atmosphere 
pervaded the mansion of Blifkins, with the single excep- 
tion of a disturbance in the kitchen, where Sailor Boy, the 
dog, indulged in the attempt to draw the cat by the tail 
through the back of a chair, and, pulling the chair over on 
to him, provoked certain yelps that brought the entire 



58 PAHTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

household to the spot. Blifkins reclined upon the sofa 
with Quentin Durward in his hand, trying to find out 
something about Louis XI., and dropped off into a sound 
sleep, maugre Mrs. Blifkins's conversation, Avhich mean- 
dered among his dreams like the babbling of a brook. 

The sewing circle was a success, and Mrs. Blifkins feli- 
citated herself that the one held at Mrs. Jones's wasn't a 
circumstance to it. Blifkins dined at the club. He had 
purchased his tickets to see Kean, and his mind was as 
unperturbed as a morning in May. 

He thought he would go home early on Saturday, and 
get ready for the play ; but just as he was ready to start, 
as in the case of John Gilpin when about embarkijig on 
his wedding anniversary excursion, " he saw a customer 
come in," and, like the Gilpin aforesaid, he was disposed to 
"cultivate" him. The customer proved shy; stopped a 
good while to talk about trifles ; introduced a good many 
outside subjects, including the settlement of the Alabama 
claims ; and Blifkins, looking at his watch, found him- 
self a full hour beyond his usual time of leaving. 

" Bless my soul ! " said he ; " I'd no idea it was so late. 
I am going to the theatre to-night, and should have been 
home two hours ago ; " and calling to his partner, he 
turned the customer over to him, thinking all the while of 
the reception at home when he should make his late ap- 
pearance there. He well knew that an excuse would be of 
no avail, because the normal condition of Mrs. B.'s mind 
was doubt ; she was prone ever to see wrong motives, and 
to measure Blifkins by his weak side. She reserved her 
doubt as an exclusive right, and had one presumed to 
touch upon it by insinuating in the least degree that Blif- 
kins was not immaculate for veracity, there would be a 
row. 

" Well, you've come," said she, as he entered the door. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 59 

Adopting the Duke's Motto, iu a gay tone he replied, — 

" I am here." 

" 'Tis a pretty time to come home ! " continued she, 
" when you know it takes one so long to get ready. I am 
almost minded not to go." 

" My dear," said Blifkins, holding up his tickets, " I was 
delayed at the store by a customer — " 

" O, bother ! " she replied, interrupting him. " I've 
heard that too many times. Had any one else wanted 
your presence or service, I dare say the customer would 
not have prevented you." 

Blifkins whistled Di Provenza, and sat down to a hasty 
supper. Mrs. Blifkins, with everything laid out prepara- 
tory, had no very extensive exertions to make to be ready, 
and they were soon on their way to the horse-cars, which 
would take them within a few steps of the theati*e. Be- 
fore leaving the house, Mrs. Blifkins advised him to take 
out his fare, as slie thought it wrong for a man to expose 
his wallet in the cars ; and he came very near falling 
under the wheels of a jDassing wagon, before they got in, 
from the extra exertion she made to keep him from dan- 
ger. Til ere never yet was a woman of one hundred and 
twenty-five avoirdupois that did not think her protection 
necessary to save her husband from harm, though he Avere 
as big as Goliah of Gath. 

They arrived late at the theatre, as some genteel people 
like to do, and, as the seats reserved for him were in the 
middle of the longest row in the house, there was much 
crowding of crinoline and much ruffling of temper as they 
forced their way to the position assigned them by the po- 
lite usher. Once seated, they turned their attention to the 
play, when Blifkins found thnt he had no bill. He blamed 
the usher very much for neglecting him ns he came in, 
in not giving him a bill, and thought about getting a friend 



60 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

of his, who is a reporter, to j^ut something in the paper 
about it. 

The play was strange to him. It was a story of rob- 
bery, and violence, and throat-cutting, and other unpleas- 
ant tilings, with lots of gunpowder ; but Blifkins did 
not stop to criticise the piece, his mind being absorbed 
by the principal figure, a robber of a very superior class 
and fine manners, dressed in elegant clothes, that he knew 
m.ust be Kean ; every motion and word of whom he de- 
voured. He had seen Kean when he was in Boston sev- 
enteen years before, and remarked to Mrs. Blifkins that he 
didn't seem a day older than when he saw him last ; to 
which she, not understanding him, replieil, " Yes." 

Blifkins was rapturous in his applause. At every sen- 
tence his kids came together with the vehemence of two 
goats in a melee, and he made such demonstrations as he 
thought would show to outsiders that he knew a thing or 
two about plays, and that Kean couldn't get around his 
appreciation of any point he might make. He applauded 
some points so loudly that people around him cried, 
"Hush! sh-sh! " to his utter disgust, and some laughed. 

Mrs. Blifkins was not at all enthusiastic. She was a 
woman who always reserved her warmest praise, and nev- 
er wasted any of the article at all. Blifkins was some- 
times accustomed to say that if she had been present at 
the seventh day of the creation, she would have withheld 
her j^raise till next day. She made no sign of like or dis- 
like, but sat with the close attention that the great actor 
merited, and when the Jilay w^as over she expressed the 
wish to go home. 

Blifkins thought that the highest compliment to be paid 
a play or an actor was to be content with it or him, nor 
allow any other to compete with them, and he assented 
without a murmur, not waiting for the farce. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 61 

"Ah, Blifkins, you here?" said his friend Jolliboy, com- 
ing forward and shaking him by the hand; "and Mrs. 
Blifkins! I decbire this is an unexpected pleasure." 

"Yes," said Mrs. Blifkins; "Benjamin wished to see 
Kean, and I thought it would be a relief from household 
cares to come with him." 

Blifkins didn't think this was putting it quite right, but 
said nothing in reply, merely remarking to Jolliboy, — 

" He plays very well for an old man." 

"Not so old, either," said Jolliboy, who at fifty was still 
laying claim to jiivenility. 

" AVhy, he must be near sixty — over fifty, at least," 
said Blifkins, mentally calculating the difierence of time 
betwixt then and now. 

"Why, no," replied Jolliboy; "it can't be more than 
tw^enty years since he went to school in South Boston. 

" Who ? " said Blifkins ; " Charles Kean ? " 

" No, Frank Mayo," replied Jolliboy ; " what has Charles 
Kean to do with it?" 

" O, nothing," said Blifkins, squeezing Mrs. Blifkins's 
arm in order to keep her from saying anything, seeing that 
he had made a mistake; "nothing, only I was thinking of 
Kean at the moment — that's all." 

"I never saw the character of Charles de Moor played 
better," said Jolliboy, enthusiastically. 

" Nor I," responded Blifkins. 

Mrs, Blifkins said nothing. 



62 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

X. 

BLIFKINS'S MOONLIGHT TRIP. 

" I NEVER told you about my moonlight excursion, last 
summer," said Blifkins, smiling, as he sat and gazed " upon 
the bust of Pallas just above our stiidy door." 

Thei'e was something provokingly funny in his look, and 
he drummed the " Hallelujah" upon the chair, looking up 
at the bust aforesaid, as though he were exchanging pri- 
vate signals with the insensate plaster. 

" What excursion was that?" we asked, looking up from 
the work whereon we were engaged. 

He burst into a laugh long and loud, and his sides shook 
again with .the accretive humor that had evidently been 
gathering strength for the present explosion, when it could 
break out in an unembarrassed atmosphere. Such bois- 
terousness was unusual to him, and indeed it was offensive, 
because the sacredness of the editorial precinct, given to 
grave meditation, should not be profaned by exuberance 
that finds voice above the breath, and we checked him by 
telling him not to make a donkey of himself by braying 
so unseemly. He kept on laughing, though moderating 
his tone, and then said, — 

« In the Nelly Baker." 

"Why, the Nelly Baker has stopped running for a 
month," we said ; " what do you mean ? " 

" I mean," he replied, " the most curious thing that ever 
happened to me, and one which I have wanted to tell you 
for a long time. I thought of it just as I came in here, 
and looked at that bust. Whose is it ? " 

"Pallas." 



THE BLIFKINS PAPEES. 63 

"Pallas, is it?" he continued; "but it looks amazingly 
like the widow Thompson." 

"And ])ray wlio may be the widow Thompson ?" we 
asked, looking Blifkins in the eye, and through that avenue 
away down into his soul; "who is she?" 

He smiled mysteriously in reply, still beating the " Hal- 
lelujah" on the arm of the chair, and turned his eyes again 
towards the bust of Pallas. 

" Well, the matter was here," he said : " Spear, of the 
Nelly Baker, invited me to go down in the harbor on one 
of the moonlight excursions that they had last summer, 
and I went home with the invitation fresh in my mind to 
induce my wife to go with me. The normal condition of 
JMrs. Blifkins's mind being opposition, of course as soon as 
I mentioned it, with all the eloquent force of ray enthusi- 
astic temper, she met it with rebuff that almost drove me 
out of the house. I was, I confess, a little discom2:)osed 
at this, having expected a different reception for a proposi- 
tion that sought her happiness, and seated myself moodily 
by the table, with my head upon my hand, thinking, 1 
am constrained to say, upon other scenes than those that 
surrounded me, and another form than that which made 
the central figure of my domestic picture, murmiiring to 
myself, inside, 'It might have been.' Excuse the digres- 
sion; but Whittier has by those few words let many peo- 
ple into the secret of their unhappiness who never other- 
wise would have dreamt of it. Had he been a married 
man he never would have written them for politic reasons. 
I was giving way to these fancies, when — 

"'Mr. Blifkins,' said iBy wife, ' you know Fm tired to 
death, delving and slaving all day, and that's the reason 
why you ask me to go, I suppose, thinking I will refuse. 
I'll go.' 

" ' Why will you impute such mean motives to me ? ' I 



64 PARTING TONIAN PATCHWORK. 

asked ; ' must I be your devoted slave for another twenty- 
five years before you are convinced of my devotedness?' 

" She made no reply. 

"The night was a charming one. The fall moon made 
everything bright and beautiful, and a refreshing biecze 
swept over the water, cooling the fever that the day had 
caused. There was a Large party on board — a curious 
mixture of materials, thrown together at random, and as 
incongruous as well could be. All were lipe for a good 
time, which was the harmonizing element — the oil that 
neutralized antagonisms, and fused the mass into sapona- 
ceous completeness." 

" Soap ! " we said. 

" Don't interrupt me, please ; the simile is a good one. 
"We steamed down the river in fine style, the waves bright 
with moonbeams and sparkling like silver. The sound of 
dashing water is jileasant to the ear, and to me is sugges- 
tive of many dreams. I love to look over the rail and see 
the foamy wake that follows the stroke of the paddle- 
wheels, and list to the hissing murmur that rises from 
the water, indulging in phantasies that realize the magic 
tales of Undine and the Naiads. And it is not bad, 
either, to take a cigar and sit by the prow, and watcli the 
bone that ripples up from the sharp cutwater in a gen- 
tle and trickling song, as soothing as a lullaby. On com- 
ing aboard, I had introduced Mrs. Blifkins to my friend 
Hodges, and leaving her very busy in conversation with 
him, I was strolling to the forward part of the boat to 
enjoy a cigar, when a light hand was placed upon my arm 
as I emerged from the shadow of the awning, and a soft 
voice said, — 

" ' Good evening, Mr. Blifkins.' 

" Mrs. Thompson ? " we queried ; but without moving hia 
eyes from the bust of Pallas, Blifkins went on. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPEES. 65 

"I started at the well-recognized tones, and there, un- 
attended, was the widow Thompson. 

" ' My dear Mrs. Thompson,' I said ' this is an unex- 
pected pleasure ; to what fortunate star am I indebted for 
this sweet surprise?' 

"'That,' she replied, pointing to the moon. 

"'Thanks, most propitious planet,' said I, with enthu- 
siasm ; ' Luna shall hereafter be my lodestar, and that " the 
devil's in the moon for mischief," shall be placed atnong the 
forgotten slanders hatched in the poet's teeming brain.' I 
took her hand as I spoke, and then we stood by the wheel- 
house together, and talked moonshine, and the nonsense 
born of romance, for many a mile. She informed me that 
she was on board in company with a young couple who had 
as much as they could do to think of themselves, without 
looking after her, but thought it prudent to join them, 
which she did, and I returned to Mrs. Blif kins, 

'"You are very gallant, I declare,' said that excellent 
woman, ' leaving me in charge of others. It was a fortu- 
nate thing that Mr. Hodges was on board, or I don't know 
what I should have done.' 

"'My love, it shows what confidence I put in yon,' I 
said, trembling, as conscience gave me a castigating 
thump; 'I am not jealous, you know.' 

"Hodges pretended that he saw somebody he wished to 
speak to, and hurried away, leaving me to Mrs. Blifkins. 

" ' Been enjoying yourself, I dare say,' said she. 

"'Entirely,' replied I; 'I thought I would go forward 
and smoke a cigar ; had an excellent time.' 

" ' There must be a great deal of fascination in a cigar,' 
she said, tartly, ' to attract a man away from his wife at 
such a time.' 

" ' I thought you were very comfortable with Hodges,' I 
replied ; ' a good fellow is Hodges.' 
5 



66 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

" ' He will do,' she replied, ' if one cannot have one's hus- 
band to speak to.' 

" I endeavored to make myself agreeable. I pointed out 
the beauties of shore and sea ; talked poetry, improvised 
speeches, essayed apostrophes ; but it all fell on unheed- 
ing ears, and I was not glad when the boat stopped at 
Nahant. 

" ' Hodges,' said I, ' look after my wife again, will you ? 
Your eloquence has so eclipsed mine that all I can say 
fails to move her. You are a fascinating fellow' — chuck- 
ing him under the ribs as I spoke. 

"I was glad to see him as carefully handing her up the 
steep steps at the landing as though she were made of 
glass. She looked rovmd at me with eyes of wonderful in- 
difference, I thought, and as she disappeared above the bank 
I gazed upon the other climbers, and close by my side was 

— Mrs. Thompson. 

" ' Bless me,' said I, holding out my hand ; 'how fortunate! 

— allow me,' and I assisted her up. 

" Taking my arm, we walked along together, communing 
most delightedly. Her delicate hand burned and palpi- 
tated on my coat sleeve, and its electric influence coursed 
through the veins of my arm, and thence to my heart. 

" 'Blessings on the hour that brought you here,' I said; 
'and blessed be the moon, whose power moved you to 
come ! ' 

" I hurried aw\ay with Mrs. Thompson upon my arm, and 
we seated ourselves by the sea, in the crevice of a rock 
that the cliffs oveihung; and there, with the waves dash- 
ing at our feet, we enjoyed the full beauty of the scene. 
Said I,— 

' In such a night as this, 
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 
And they did make no noise ; in such a night, 



THE BLIFKIlsrS PAPERS. 67 

Troilus, niethinks, mounted the Trojan walls, 
And sighed his soul towards the Grecian tents, 
Where Cressid lay that night.' " 

"'Mr. Blifkins,' said my wife, looking round a projecting 
angle of the rock ; ' are you smoking again ? ' 

" She disappeared as she spoke, and we samitered along 
the sands, throwing pebbles into the water that almost 
laved our feet, as happy as children, and innocent as the 
babes in the wood. We stood in the shadows and looked 
out upon the sea, heaving, like our own hearts, with emo- 
tion, and looked into each other's eyes, tender with mel- 
low light, and we sighed, ' It might have been.' Her 
thoughts, perhaps, were with the deceased Thompson — 
where were mine ? 

"'Mr. Blifkins !' said my wife. Mrs. Thompson's hand 
slipped from my arm, the sea rolled away, bearing her off 
on its breast, the rocks settled to a grave, the moonlight 
grew opaque, and a passing sea-fowl gave me a smart rap 
on the ear. 

" ' Mr. Blifkins ! ' said my wife, ' wake up.' 

" ' Has the boat gone ? ' said I, starting from my seat at 
the table where I had dozed ; ' where's Hodges and the 
widow Thompson ? ' 

" ' W7io f ' said my wife, in a tone that made the rims of 
my hat curl up as I put it on my head. ' Who ? ' 

"'Nothing, my dear, nothing,' replied I; 'it was a 
dream, that's all ; and half of life is but little better.' 

" We didn't go on the excursion. 'Tis wonderful how 
much that bust of Pallas looks like Mrs. Thompson." 

Said we, "Blifkins, you are in a bad way. Drink 
cooling fluids, eat no meat, abstain from stimulants. The 
dream of Mrs. Thompson is but the residuum of bad fan- 
cies, and the sooner you are rid of them the better." 



68 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

XI. 

BLIFKINS' SILVER WEDDING. 

" Blifkins," said my wife, " we have been mamed twen- 
ty-one years to-day, and you have never manifested by any 
demonstration, on the returning anniversary, that you were 
sensible of the blessing you enjoy. 'Now I propose that 
we celebrate our silver wedding." 

"Very well, my dear," replied I, "have it your own 
way; only it strikes me that the twenty-fifth anniversary is 
the one that is usually remembered as the silver wedding." 

" That is just the way with you," said my wife, bursting 
into tears, and showing evident signs of temper, which, I 
am sorry to say, have increased somewhat of late ; " that's 
just the way with you." 

I told my wife that I was not sensible of any particular 
"way" in the premises, and begged that estimable woman 
to explain what she meant ; indeed, I am not certain that 
I did not use the words, "what in thunder" she meant, as 
I frequently hear them used to strengthen our idiom, some- 
what deficient in emphatic terms. She condescended to 
inform me that I had, by leaving it to her in the first jjlace, 
manifested my indifference, and in the second had de- 
stroyed her anticipations by mentioning the fact of the 
twenty-five years' custom ; as though only four years made 
any difference; as though twenty-one years of our wedded 
life had not been fully equal to twenty-five of that of any- 
body else. 

" Equal to forty, my love," I interposed, " of some." 
3Iy wife looked at me inquiringly. " Reckoning the time 
by happiness," I quickly added, to save the domestic bark 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 69 

from going over on its beam-ends. I explained to my 
wife that leaving the matter to her was another proof of 
my confidence in her wisdom that twenty-one years had 
not shaken. 

" Then," said she, " Blif kins, we will celebrate om* silver 
wedding to-day ; because life is very uncertain, and we 
don't know what may happen." 

" Very well," said I ; "go ahead." 

I went home at night a little later than usual, and was 
agreeably surprised to find my wife's mother, and my wife's 
three sisters, and my wife's two maiden aunts, assembled, 
all dressed in their best " bib and tucker." I essayed to 
look cheerful ; but as I entered I felt that I was regarded 
as an offender. My wife was dressed in her black silk, a 
sure augury of trouble, for that black silk ever has been as 
significant to me of disaster as the black cap of a chief 
justice, assumed while pronouncing sentence of death. 

" How d' do ? Glad to see you ! " I shouted, and at- 
tempted to kiss the sisters, who appeared to be as rigid as 
those damsels mentioned in Tennyson's "Princess," offer- 
ing no resistance, but caring nothing about it. 

" J/^'. Blifkins," said my wife, " if you had been as ener- 
getic in your motions while walking as you are in your 
rudeness now, you would have been at home sooner. We 
can judge of a man's interest by the manner in which he 
moves. Anybody else would have been home an horn- 
sooner than usual on such a happy occasion." 

" My dear old wife," said I, attempting a mollifying ex- 
pedient that had at other times proved successful, " be 
reasonable " — 

" Yes," she broke in, "that is just your way. Zam the 
unreasonable one of course; Z cause all the trouble; ^am 
to blame for everything ; and as for being your old wife, 
were I younger perhaps you would treat me differently." 



70 PAETmGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

" I attempted a coup de grace by kissing her, as she was 
taking a loaf of cake from the oven. She held it towards 
me to prevent my approach, and I gave it a warm embrace, 
which it as warmly returned. I uttered my feelings with 
a degree of vehemence that might have answered to ex- 
press the concentrated spite restrained for twenty-one 
years. My wife screamed, and the whole party rose to 
their feet, and held ujd their hands in horror at the atroci- 
ty. In vain I strove to laugh it off — the mother-in-law 
and the maiden aunts came over my spirits like a cold pack 
in January. The sisters simmered a little, but their laugh 
sounded to my perturbed spirit like the rustle of a chick- 
en's feathers trembling at the appeai'ance of a hen-hawk. 
I subsided into silence, and read the evening paper. 

"Mr. Bhfkins," said my mother-in-law, abruptly, in a 
tone that made me start to my feet as though I had been 
shot, " you ought to feel happy at the return of this joy- 
ful day." 

" Happy?" I repeated, my mind dwelling on the doings 
of the broker's board ; " discount ninety-five per cent., sales 
moderate." 

" How ? " she repeated, shai-ply. 

" Very happy," I said, correcting myself, and putting a 
jolly emphasis on the very, relapsing into the broker's 
board again. 

" And I dare say you properly value the treasure you 
have in your wife ! " said one of the maiden aunts, sol- 
emnly. 

"Value declining; four and a half, dividend off," I said, 
thinking of Erie, and my two shares that I had bought on 
speculation. 

" How ?" she queried in her turn. 

" Most assuredly," replied I, in a tone that testified my 
proper valuation of the treasure. 



THE BLDTKINS PAPEES. 71 

"And you would probably take the same step if you 
could live your life over? " queried one of the sisters. 

" Buyers positively decline purchasing," said I, reading 
a line relating to a class of fancy stocks. 

" How ? " asked the sister, not hearing distinctly. 

" Certainly I would ; of course," I said, redeeming my 
imperilled reputation by my earnestness. 

The children came rushing in, and in a few moments I 
forgot my momentary annoyance. The whole thirteen 
have a natural taste for music; and while Juliana, my 
eldest, who is nineteen, and is courted by a long-limbed 
young gentleman in the city, played the piano, the others 
engaged in a pleasant little dance, till the tea bell sounded, 
when we repaired to the dining-room, where Mi's. Blifkins 
had prepared our little repast. Everything was com- 
memorative of the event. There were twenty-one plates 
upon the table, twenty-one cups and saucers, twenty-one 
spoons, twenty-one knives and forks, twenty-one slices of 
bread, and twenty-one pieces of pie. 

" Sit down and eat," said I, "in welcome at our table." 

" Ml". Blifkins," said my wife, " check your exuberance, 
please, and act more like the head of a family of twenty- 
one year's standing. Pay a little attention to your guests, 
do. You don't seem to have any more idea of waiting 
upon a table than nothing at all." 

It was an old comparison of hers, though perhaps it 
might be objected to on the ground of grammatical im- 
propriety. I immediately did the honors in my most aj)- 
proved manner. 

" What were your emotions twenty-one years ago this 
minute?" said my mother-in-law, stirring her tea. 

"To the nearest of my recollection," said I, "I had just 
smoked a bad cigar, and my emotions were anything but 
agreeable." 



72 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

'• How unfeeling ! " was echoed ai'onnd the ch'cle. 

My wife didn't look altogether so amiable, I thought, as 
she had twenty-one years before. The supper came to an 
end, and all adjourned to the parlor. I went slyly down 
stairs, and brought up a couple of silver-necked bottles, and 
held them behind me. " I can," said I, " call spirits froui 
the vasty deep." 

" Can you? " said one of the aunts ; "then you must be 
a mejum." 

" Certainly I am," replied I ; " come up here, my spirits, 
and let us keep our spirits up by putting spirits down." 

I produced the bottles, and one of the circle said, " He is 
sich a man ! " 

"Mr, Blifkins," said my wife, "think of the example you 
are setting your children." 

" I'll think of it, my dear," said I, cutting the wire. Pop ! 
went the cork, followed by a discharge that flew all over 
mother-in-law's silk dress. 

" Pray be careful, Mr. Blifkins," said my wife. 

"Ladies," said I, "allow me to fill your glasses for a 
toast : The State of Matrimony — of which we to-day 
have become citizens through a twenty-one years' residence 
■ — may it always be the brightest star in the union." 

The toast was drank, and Juliana played, at my mother- 
in-law's request, "Meddelsome's Wedding March." 

Said I, "Ladies, I am not a poet, but I have been en- 
deavoring to write something to-day expressive of my feel- 
ings for this great occasion — I may say the anniversary 
of the greatest occasion of my life. It is the excuse that 
I have to offer for my tardiness." My wife looked amia- 
ble then. "If you will listen I will read what I have writ- 
ten." I then proceeded, with my usual excellence of tone 
and gesture, that always win applause at the club, to read 
the following : — 



THE BLIFKLNS PAPERS. 73 



MY TWENTY-FIRST WEDDING DAY, 

Twenty-one years ! — and it weren't at all strange 

If in that time had happened many a change; 

The jolly young boy, in waist but a span, 

Is now a married and corpulent man ; 

And my wife, then a damsel so tender and shy, 

Is as fat as a seal, and equally spry. 

I've sown my wild oats ; I've cut all the crew 
With whom in my youth I put matters through ; 
I gave up cigars as a tribute to love, 
And punch, that I prized all comforts above ; 
I have put all pleasures of old under ban, 
Determined to live like a true married man. 

With my children around me, my wife by my side, 
Who's as dear to me now as when first my bride, 
I envy not those who are soaking their clay. 
Or are burning their lives in tobacco away. 
Content to remain here just as I am. 
As happy as is at high water a clam. 

Let fate do its best, or its worst, as it may ; 
All luck is but accident, just, of a day ; 
The good and the bad, the sorrows and joys. 
Are nothing at all but trifles and toys ; 
I'll sit at my ingle, and say, as they fly, 
I'm watching the harvest to come by and by. 

"Mr. Blifkins," said my wife, in a severe spirit of criti- 
cism, clouding up again, " hadn't you better specify that it 
is the anniversary of the Twenty-First Wedding Day, be- 



74 PATIjSTGTONIAN patchwoek. 

cause unborn generations, who may read it, may suppose 
you was married twenty-one times, which is not to be sup- 
posed of any man." 

I accej^ted the amendment, when she submitted that 
likening her to a seal was not very complimentary, and 
as for her being fat, she weighed but one hundred and 
eighty ! 

The evening passed very pleasantly. The champagne 
did the business. Before we parted my mother-in-law 
embraced me, and avowed for the thousandth time that 
no one could liave a better son-in-law ; the maiden aunts 
were tractable, and the sisters stood still, like sensible girls, 
to be kissed ; and thus ended my Silver Wedding. 



XII. 

BLIFKINS THE BACCHANAL. 

"Do I look like a debauchee? " said Blifkins, as he came 
in the morning after the Reunion of the JoUiboys at Par- 
ker's. We told him that we didn't think he did. We 
turned him round to the light, so that we could look into 
bis eyes. They were as clear as a bell, and as full of laugh 
as an eirg is full of meat. 

" Why do you ask ? " we said, as he sat down on the dam- 
ask lounge in our back room, in front of the great mirror 
that had in the early days of the republic reflected the fea- 
tures of the Father of his Country. He looked up, with 
a very roguish expression, as he said, "Mrs. Blifkins," 
and broke out with a laugh that shook things. We took 
another look at him, to ascertain if our first impression 
were not wrong, for it seemed to us that a sober man 
would not have acted thus. Pie cooled down, and then 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 75 

again attempted to explain the reason for his mirth. Af- 
ter several commencements he managed to tell his story. 

" Mrs. Blifkins will have it that I was tight," said he, 
"though there isn't a Jolliboy that will not say I was 
right as a trivet. It was about three when I got home, 
and when I unlocked the door there stood Mrs. Blifkins 
in a spirit of patience, and a long flannel bed-gown, waiting 
for me." 

" ' So you've come,' said she, as I entered. 

" I assured her that such was the fact, and asked her if 
she wasn't afraid that getting up so early would be injuri- 
ous to her health. Whereupon she informed me that her 
health was the last thing I cared for — that no man who 
cared for his wife's health would exjDose her to the danger 
of sitting up till three o'clock in the morning, and he away 
indulging in dissipation. 

"'But,' said I, 'my dear, there was no need of your sit- 
ing up. I was fully competent to take care of myself I 
have that prudent regard for myself that never leads me 
over the bounds of sobriety, and to-night, in particular, I 
am wonderfully correct.' 

"I attempted to salute her, but she drew back with a con- 
temptuous and deprecating 'Faugh!' as though she de- 
tected odors of bacchanalian haunts in my breath. But I 
saw that a change was coming over her face, and she im- 
mediately assumed the patronizing and sympathetic. 

" ' Come, Mr. Blifkins,' said she ; ' you had better go to 
bed, and sleep it off". Your head will ache fearfuhy in the 
morning, and serve you right, because a man with a fami- 
ly ought to know better than to make such a brute of him- 
self.' 

" ' But, my dear,' said I, interrupting her, ' I assure you 
your fears are groundless. See me walk that seam in the 
carpet.' 



76 PAKTINGTONIAN PATCHWOBK. 

" I attempted it ; but I stepj^ed on a confounded marble 
that one of the chikh-eu had dropped on the floor, and 
came nigh falling down. 

" ' I knew so,' she sighed ; ' what a pity ! But I am used 
to it. I am glad the children are not up to witness their 
father's disgrace — little dears.' 

" ' But I'm not,' cried I, trying to save my credit. 

" ' Don't say another word,' said she ; 'go to bed, and 
sleep it off.' 

" I made no further parley, but walked up stairs, and in 
five minutes was enjoying the sleep that only the innocent 
know. When I awoke in the morning, Mrs. Blifkins was 
standing over me with the most severely virtuous face I 
ever knew her to wear. 

" ' Well,' said she, ' I dare say your head aches finely this 
morning — good enough for you, and all such as indulge 
in such pi'actices.' 

" ' Nary a headache,' said I, sitting up in bed ; ' never 
felt better in my life. Give lis a cup of chocolate, and I 
will soon join you.' 

" ' Chocolate ! ' said she ; ' chocolate after a debauch ! 
You mean a cup of strong tea.' 

" I thought of Mrs. Joe Gai-gery's tar water, and said no 
more. She was determined, I saw, that I was ' an exam- 
ple,' although I assure you, on my word as a member of 
the Association for the Promotion of Universal Good, that 
I was as straight as a die. Isn't it strange?" 

We assured Blifkins that the saying, " Once a rogue, al- 
ways suspected," applied to him, and that he ought to be 
grateful for the never-tiiing interest thus disjaosed to watch 
over his unaruardedness : but he didn't see it. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 77 

XIII. 
BLIFKINS THE HORTICULTURIST. 

It may not be very generally known that Mr. Blifkins 
has bought him a new house lately, on a new street ; and 
since he came in possession of it he has devoted himself 
to deep thought, and taken counsel of others, regarding 
the improvement of his " grounds," as he terms the en- 
closure that forms his lot. He had a high respect for hor- 
ticulture from early associations, — had, indeed, while a 
mere boy in the country, raised considerable fruit, much 
to the surprise of his friends as to how he came by it, — 
and he determined to devote this spot to horticultural pur- 
poses, looking forward to the time when he sliould be able 
to sit under his own vine and eat his own fig tree. 

Friends advised this, that, and the other, each one elo- 
quently advocating his particular plan as the best to beau- 
tify and benefit. One advocated flowers, another favored 
arboriculture, another dwelt on the beauty of a lawn, 
another gave conclusive arguments in favor of a green- 
house. 

" Why, any one can see, with half an eye," said Mrs. 
Blifkins, "that it is beautiful for pears; but I don't sup- 
pose my advice is worth anything, as it is never asked." 

"Your advice is excellent, my dear," said Blifkins, rap- 
turously; "never was man blessed with so wise and sweet 
a counsellor; a perfect Solomon in petticoats." 

This last was uttered as an " aside," it being regarded a 
precarious venture. 

Full of his idea of stocking his place with pears, he im- 



78 PAETESrGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

mediately visited all the nurseries in the vicinity, to con- 
sult catalogues in order to get tlie best varieties. It was 
a severe tax upon his time, but he resolved to get the best. 
He saw many scores of names thnt he didn't understand, 
for which he felt a profound respect; and of those he se- 
lected a half dozen with the most formidable and unintelli- 
gible titles, assured that he had got just the thing. The 
trees looked thrifty, the green just coming out — his own 
case he thought — and engaging an Irish gardener — " born 
wid a shpade in his fist," as he averred — he soon saw the 
trees transferred to his grounds, sods beautifully plastered 
over the bare patches, and the place really assumed the 
look of cultivation. But, alas ! the chill winds did not 
agree with the tender trees; the cool air and the heat of 
the sun, acting in opposition, killed the shoots between 
them, as Mr, Pickwick came nigh being overwhelmed be- 
tween the two belligerent editors. 

"You've got a glorious place there for a grapevine," 
said Mr. Planit, his neighbor, looking over the dividing line 
between the two lots; "'twill fit over that balustrade 
splendidly." 

"'Twill shut out the sun," said Mrs. Blifkins, overhear- 
ing the remark. 

" Not a bit of it, my dear madam," replied he, " more 
than is agreeable ; a grape vine is just like a child — train 
it up, and away it goes." 

Mrs, Blifkins did not take very strong ground in opposi- 
tion, though she afterwards mentioned to Blifkins private- 
ly that she thought Mr. Planit had a great deal of pre- 
sumption in recommending it ; that some folks' impu- 
dence led them a great ways in meddling with other folks' 
business. 

"Why," said the neighbor, taking up the thread of his 
remark regarding the vine, " the first year joiCW have at 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 79 

least a bushel ; next year, two ; and iu five years you'll 
have grapes enough to supply the town." 

Even Mrs. Blif kins melted before this delicious argu- 
ment, and the vine was decided upon. 

Blifkins immediately visited Sweetwater, the gardener, 
who had vines to sell. 

" There," said Sweetwater, holding up a piece of stick 
about as big as a lead pencil; "there's a grape, now, that 
I can recommend ; a choice kind ; a hybrid betwixt a ' Je- 
rusalem Pucker ' and a ' Huckleberry Twist ; ' berries as 
big as grape shot, sweet as sirup, and three weeks earlier 
than any other variety." 

" But that's dead — isn't it ? " said Blifkins, touching the 
twig suspiciously. 

" Dead ! bless your soul, no ! " he replied ; " do you see 
that?" pointing to a rough spot on the bark; "that's a 
fruit bud, and that, and that," pointing to other rough 
places ; "'tis one of the most healthy vines I've got. 
Plant it and it will grow like Jonah's gourd." 

Blifkins bought it, took it home, and prepared to plant it. 

"You're not going to plant it yourself ?" said Planit, 
putting his head up on the top of the fence. 

Blifkins thought he should. 

"You'd better get a gardener to do it, — begin right, 
and always right; a good grape will pay for all care." 

So Blifkins went to the original " Shpade," and, enga- 
ging him to plant the vine, proceeded quietly to his busi- 
ness. About an hour after, while employed in some par- 
ticular matter, an Irish head, hatless, protruded through 
his door, and the body of his friend " Sh23ade " appeared 
soon after. . 

"Plase, sir," said he, "if yez haven't got any bones, — 
and bones is allers best, — it ud want about two loads of 
manure, yer honor." 



80 PAKTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

" What does ! " cried Blif kins, in amazement. 

" The grape vine, sir," said Spade. 

" The deuce ! " repHed Blif kins ; " Avell, go to Drury and 
get what you want, and send the bill to me." 

OIF went Spade, and Blifkins resumed his business till 
dinner time, going home then to witness the progress of 
his horticultural experiment. He could see nothing of 
Sj)ade. An immense heap of dirt lay before him, while 
on one side was a black and offensive pile as high as his 
head. 

"A pretty piece of work you've made of it! " said Mrs. 
Blifkins, thi'usting her head out of a window over the bal- 
cony, and draAving it in again, as if offended with the 
odor. 

" I think so," said Blifkins. « Where's Spade ?— Spade ! " 

" Here, yer honor," responded a voice the other side of 
the heap, as though it came out of a grave ; and at that in- 
stant a shovelful of earth fell at his feet. He climbed up 
on the pile, and beheld the original digger delving like a 
gopher at the bottom of a huge hole, as earnestly as though 
he were working a new mine and was anxious to get enough 
specimens together to secure it a place on the list at the 
brokers' board. 

"What in the name of Moses are you doing? " said Blif- 
kins, in some heat. 

" Making the bed for the vine, sir," said Spade, wiping 
his forehead. 

Blifkins took the vine in his fingers — it hadn't grown 
an inch — looked at the hole, and the heap of manure, and 
the Irishman, and then went into the house to look at 
Mrs. Blifkins. 

To say that that estimable woman was disturbed would 
not be exaggerating the fact. She Avas. She had in her 
mind's eye imagined an umbrageous growth of green. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 81 

that at the very outset would flourish — she was too im- 
patient to wait for ordinary results. But she had the 
good sense to see that Blifkins was troubled, and simply 
remarking that he might have known it would be so, and 
if he had taken her advice, — which she never expected 
him to do, — it would have been different, he ate his dinner 
in silence, going down town thereafter as quietly as pos- 
sible. On going home at night he found the planting com- 
pleted. The sward was blackened by the fouling dirt ; but 
there was the lead pencil planted, come what might of it, 
and done, too, as Mr. Planit had advised, thoroughly. 

The next day the Irish head appeared again, the body 
immediately after, and Mr. Spade presented the following 
Httle bill : — 

" Misther BlifFkens to Mich. Spade dether, \ 

To too lodes nianoor, witch it is pade fur meself out ov 

my one pokit, not wishen to trubble a gintleman, . 06.00 

To doin bed for graipe vyne, 5.50 

Tottle, $11.50 

Eeceept pay, Mich. Spade." 

Blifkins paid the bill, thinking all the while he had been 
more thoroughly " done " than the vine. 



xiy. 

BLIFKINS THE LINGUIST. 

We had not met Blifkins for some time, and were much 
pleased to see his round, good-humored face thrust through 
an opening in the door, and to hear his voice salute us with 
its old-time sincerity of tone, for there is the genuine ring 
of honesty in his " How are ye ? " which, though not mean- 
6 



82 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

ing anything in pnrticular, always gives lis a pleasure to 
hear it. He came in and seated himself, hung his hat on 
the antlered tree that graces our sanctorum, and knocking 
the ashes from his cigar, he began to speak of the news. 
We asked him Avhere he had kept himself, and he said he 
had been engaged in a little speculation that had taken 
him from the city. He had been travelling, he said ; had 
explored oil-wells and coal-mines, had made a thousand 
acquaintances, and had had a big time generally. 

" A queer thing happened to me last night," said he. 
He looked funnily, as though he were internally chuckling 
with a thought that must have expression. 

•' Out Avith it," we said, " and don't keep it, like a hen 
looking about to steal a nest." 

" Well," replied he, " I will not. You see my new friend 
Spratt, of Titusville, was on here, and was engaged in a 
little business transaction that also concerned me; so 1 
thought I would take him round some, maugre the admo- 
nition of my wife that I had better know Avho I associated 
with, and that married men had better stay at home. I 
accordingly took him to see Booth, and after enjoying a 
portion of the cheerful play of Macbeth, we went out to re- 
fresh ourselves with a mouthful of fresh air, or its equiva- 
lent. We sauntered into a restaurant that looked neat and 
cheerful, and getting seated comfortably, I proposed that we 
should have a steak and a cup of coffee, which were ordered, 
and we enjoyed ahalf hour of pleasant converse — plunged 
into caves of coal, swam in ri\ers of oil, and talked our- 
selves into immense fortunes. We saw ourselves million- 
iarea, with coaches and horses ; with cosUy houses in town, 
and summer villas in the country — " 

" The effect of the coffee ? " we queried ; but he took no 
note of it. 

" And so on, till the time of leaving arrived, wdien I 



THE BLrFKESrS PAPEES. 83 

arose and stepped to the counter to settle the bill, throw- 
ing down a two dollar greenback. The gentleman behind 
the counter took the bill in his fingers, turned it over and 
looked at its back, then turned it over again, as if to satisfy 
himself of its genuineness, while I waited to receive my 
change. He was, I saw, a French gentleman that was 
waiting upon me, or, rather, upon whom I was waiting, and 
I said to him in as good French as I could muster, — 

" ' Pardonnez moi ; I wantez raon cliango.' 

" I saw that he looked at me somewhat surprised, as if 
he hadn't expected me to speak in his ' native vermicular,' 
but made no sign of paying me. 

" ' Monsieur,' said I, ' etes-vous Francais and avez-vous 
de postage currency.' 

" ' N'importe,' replied he, shrugging his shoulders, ' beau- 
coup de postage stamps ! " 

" I felt my indignation rising. 

" ' I detnandez de 'echange,' said I. 

" ' Four dolliar and a quartier,' said he, tapping the bill 
of fare. 

" ' What ! ' said I, in a surprised roar. 

" ' jNIorbleu ! ' said he, in a manner considerably excited, 
running his finger down the bill of fore ; ' four dolliar and 
a quartier ; biftek, ponimes de terre, pain, moutard, pot- 
pourri, beurre, etc. Four dolliar and a quartier, Messieu.' 

" I remembered that there had been certain patches 
upon the table of minute proportions, and not wishing to 
appear small before my guest, I handed him three dollars 
more. 

"'Ah,' said he, 'where was I thought? bigar, I forgot 
ze cafe noir. It is four feefty, messieu.' 

"'Well, well,' I replied, now speaking in my mother 
tongue, for indignation rather overcame my French man- 
ners, 'give me back my change, and be hanged to you; 



84 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

for if you read that bill of fare again, you will take eveiy 
cent I've got in the world.' 

" He grinned as he gave it me, and said, in very excel- 
lent English, ' That's so.' 

" I've found out since that he was born in Vermont, and 
wasn't any Frenchman at all. 

" When I got home I had to take a severe lecture from 
Mrs. Blifkins on the loose habits of the times, who re- 
peated, what I had become rather accustomed to, that all 
men who were heads of families should be at home even- 
ings, and not be gallivanting round with this or tliat person, 
or going to places where, perhaps, their wives might not 
follow them. I dropped to sleep right in the middle of 
her lecture ; but it kept on buzzing in my ear till, in my 
sleeping fancy, I conceived myself tormented by a swarm 
of blue-bottled flies, that flew round and round me with 
a fearlul din, from which I could not escape ; that after 
being subjected to it for a year, I was relieved by a 
tornado that swept them all into the sea. I waked up as 
the clock struck twelve, having been to sleep but fifteen 
minutes, while Mrs. B. was snoring vehemently by my 
side." 

This was Blifkins's story. Not much of a story, either, 
to those who see more of the world ; but Benjamin Blifkins, 
the domestic and patient, makes a mountain of such little 
episodes, and it delights us to listen to them. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 86 

XV. 

BLIFKINS'S DOG SAILOR BOY. 

About a month after he had bought the dog Sailor Boy, 
and the remembrance of the fifteen dollars he liad paid for 
him had mellowed into an indistinct idea of a rather profit- 
able investment, Blif kins went home one day in a very 
happy frame of mind. Pie had that morning made a suc- 
cessful speculation, and had, by a most delightful accident, 
found company in the car up town that had smoothed the 
wrinkles completely out of his temper, rendering his feel- 
ings as beatific as they were susceptible of being. He 
applied his latch-key, humming, "Ever be happy," and 
entei'ed his door with a bound. He was met by the chill 
that one at times feels when the wind comes round suddenly 
east on a warm day — a sort of home atmosphere that the 
over-ardent will at times encounter, providentially to save 
them from a too exuberant state of feeling. 

" What's the matter, my love ?" said he, as he saw Mrs. 
Blifkins coming towards him from the darkened side of 
the hall. " Any good news to tell me ? You are looking 
remarkably pleasant." 

He spoke at random, for he could not see distinctly how 
she looked, but \\Qfelt that trouble was brewing for him — 
conscience jogging his memory regarding his recent con- 
traband mile of enjoyment in the omnibus with one whose 
name, in that precinct, would be a signal for an immediate 
storm. He felt timid lest some v/inged spirit of the air 
had anticipated his arrival, and had revealed his innocent 
delinquency, as Mrs. Blifkins came out into the brighter 
light, and he saw her face red and hot, looking as though 



86 PARTINGTOoSnAlSr PATCHWORK. 

she had been assisting the cook in frying doughnuts. It 
is bad when the hajDpiness of one is the bane of another, 
and harmless indulgences are concealed from either through 
dread of a scene — a prudential measure rendered neces- 
sary, but which is to be deprecated, nevertheless ; and 
Blifkius, from becoming one of the most ingenuous men in 
the world, had become so close, that he hesitated about 
telhng Mrs. B. what o'clock it was, when asked, for fear 
it might involve the necessity of an explanation. 

" If I look very pleasant, I don't feel so," said she, with 
a slight degree of tartar in her tone. 

"Just as I feared," Blifkins thought to himself, but mus- 
tered courage enough to repeat his question, " What is the 
matter ? " 

" I have been afraid all along that that dog would cause 
us trouble ; and now it has come — just through your per- 
sistence in keeping the brute." 

His persistence ! This, when he remembered one weary 
day's search for him, through her own wish to have the 
dog found after he had turned him out of doors. It was 
provoking, but Benjamin Blifkins had long ago ta'ken a 
position on principle that he would not be disturbed in 
temper by man or woman ; and should he now abandon a 
principle so well maintained on account of a woman and a 
fifteen-dollar dog ? No ; forbid it, consistency ! 

" Get out, you good-for-nothing dog ! " cried Mrs. Blif- 
kins, vehemently, much to his surprise, imagining the 
remark made to himself; but following the direction of her 
eye, he saw " Sailor Boy " at the head of the stairs, wag- 
ging his tail violently, with a very curious expression of 
countenance, — as if of half fun and half fear, — but not 
daring to come down. As Blifkins caught his eye, he 
rubbed his nose with his paw, veiy intelligently, looked 
significantly at Mrs. Blifkins, and disappeared. 



THE BLITKINS PAPERS. 87 

" What's the matter ? " said Blifkiiis, for the third time. 

" Frederick Augustus ! " she cried, naming the youngest 
boy, "come down here and show your pai>a what the 
naughty dog has done ! " 

The boy came when called, with his forehead bound 
round with a handkerchief. 

" Show papa where the dog hurt you ; but I suppose he 
w^ouldn't care if we were all killed by the worthless brute. 
Dear, dear, what cares a mother has ! I don't know what 
would become of the children if it wasn't for mothers ! " 

This was uttered with a half sob, as Frederick Augustus 
unbound his head, and revealed, beneath the customary 
brown paper and rum, a dark bruise upon the forehead as 
big as a dime. 

" There, that's what your beautiful dog did," said Mrs. 
Blifkins, in a tone of triumph, as though she were delighted 
with the prospect ; " and it is a mercy, I am sure, that his 
skull was not crushed and his brains spread all about the 
floor." 

Blifkins looked at the contusion and heard the agony cul- 
minate with wonderful equanimity, almost justifying Mrs. 
Blifkins's charge of indifference. He saw that no great 
harm had been done, because the boy's appetite had not 
failed him, as he was then engaged upon an extensive 
undertaking of bread and butter, a sharpener of his aj^pe- 
tite for dinner, 

"How did he hurt you, Bub?" said Blifkins, stooping 
down and parting his hair. 

" Frowed me down stairs," I'eplied Frederick Augustus, 
blowing a cloud of crumbs upon his paternal's shirt bosom. 

This charge looked serious, and casting his eyes up he 
saw that Sailor Boy had returned, and was lying at the 
head of the stairs, with his head stretched out upon his 
paws, the picture of innocence, as if listening to the testi- 



88 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

mony again*t liis character that was being lieard in the 
"court below." 

" Tell papa how it was," said Blifkins, coaxingly. 

" Ride' oil Sailor Boy's back — fall down," was the reply, 
making an angry gesture towards the dog with his fist, 
as big as a cent apple. 

" 'Tis wonderful how that child resembles its mother," 
thought Blifkins, as he saw the expression on the boy's 
face. He learned from this that in an insane attempt to 
ride Sailor Boy down stairs, he had been thrown, and say- 
ing he was glad it was no worse, proj^osed they should go 
to dinner. 

"I don't see how you can think of dinner at such a 
time ; but that is just so inconsiderate as men are. Din- 
ner, indeed, and that dear blessed boy escaping eternity 
by a quarter of an inch. Such unfeelingness ! " 

But an odor of good things filled the. air, as if, while 
denying him the privilege of thinking about dinner, lier 
thought had been busy in that direction, and the promise 
made to the olfactories was not broken to the taste. Mrs. 
Blifkins as a cook is not surpassed. Sailor Boy, feeling in 
some doubts as to his status, from the remembrance of an 
application of Blifkins's Malacca cane in punishment for 
his offence, prudently kept out of the way. 



Mrs. Blifkins has told us twenty times what a wonder- 
fully sagacious dog Sailor Boy was ; and well she might 
admit it. Among the evidences of his sagacity was a 
thorough understanding of her various moods. He 
knew when the domestic breeze was east, and no barome- 
ter could more plainly demonstrate the atmospheric 
changes of home than his demeanor. It is' true he had 
literally had this "beat into him ; " Imt it required only a 
few applications of the foot, or of such weapon as chanced 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 89 

to be handy, to convince him of the necessity of watchful- 
ness. 

Having a very social disposition, Sailor Boy attracted 
quite a coterie of dogs to the Blifkins neighborhood ; and, 
being desirous of showing them hospitalities, they were 
always welcomed by him in the back yard, to the great 
delight of the children, who rummaged all the closets for 
cold victuals, and nearly ruined Blifkins by their attacks 
on his larder, rendering quite impossible that hope of an 
economical household, a " picked-up dinner." The unfor- 
tunate beggar woman, who for a longtime had come twice 
a week to get the odds and ends, withdi-ew her patronage 
in disgust because of the insufficient supply, much to the 
delight of Sailor Boy and his friends, who escorted her 
to the gate and barked their adieus, one of them retaining 
a shred of her ragged shawl as a memento. The coterie 
at last was broken up by the cook, who poured a skillet of 
hot water upon one of the dogs, who had ventured into 
the kitchen, and was helping himself to a veal cutlet. 
They found they were getting into hot water, and left. 

Professor Agassiz couldn't have a better illustration of 
reason in dogs than that displayed by Sailor Boy. He 
reasons from principles ; cause and effect are duly con- 
sidered by him. This latter was proved in the case of his 
treatment of Blifkins's butcher's boy. Seeing the boy in 
the butcher's shop was prima facie evidence to Sailor 
Boy that he was good to eat ; therefore, whenever he comes 
to the house, S. B. is sure to have a nip at him. Tjie boy, 
by a judicious application of his brogans, endeavors to dis- 
pel this illusion, but as yet unsuccessfully. He is, besides, 
an amateur in music, as is manifest wlienever a hand organ 
performs near the Blifkins mansion. Sailor Boy, at such 
times, will sing so furious an accompaniment to the strain 
that the teeth of the whole neighborhood will be set on 



90 PARTINGTONIivN PATCHWORK. 

edge thereby — superstitious people, and those with no 
ear for music, regarding it as howling. Mrs. Blifkins 
averred that the harmony with the organ was perfect, and 
tliat the one who turned the crank was so jealous of the 
dog that he swore a fearful oath at him in ItaUan, and tried 
to kick him. 

His hospitality was exemplified one day in a remarkable 
manner. He liad made the acquaintance of a respectable 
dog in the neighborhood who was accustomed to run in 
on an occasional visit. One day he came in as Sailor Boy 
was discussing a savory bone, who with a growl seized the 
bone and ran with it to the dog-house Blifkins had built 
in his shed. A moment after he seemed to say to himself, 
"Well, this is rather small business for a fifteen-dollar 
dog ; " and, coming out, he laid the bone at the feet of his 
visitor, wagged his tail as if inviting him to fill to, which 
he did, to Sailor Boy's great delight. 

He is a constant companion of all the boys in the 
neighborliood, taking part in their games, and is as big a 
boy as any of them. Indeed, all idea of race seems to be 
overlooked by all parties, and whether they are all dogs or 
all boys, when pursuing their play, it would be hard for 
either of them to say. It was a marvel to see him one day 
gravely sitting contemplating a game of marbles, and 
appearing very angry when he saw one of the boys trying 
to cheat. 

"Well," said Blifkins, pushing liis chair back from the 
table, "then Sailor Boy must go ; such a trick as this to-day 
never can be excused — endangering the peace of my dear 
wife, and the lives of my precious children." 

There was a blank expression on the faces of the chil- 
dren as he said this, and Mrs. Blifkins looked troubled. 
At this moment Sailor Boy came into the dining-room, as 



THE BLIFKINS PAPEKS. 91 

though he had been listening outside. There was a mel- 
ancholy droop in his tail, and a general air of penitence in 
his whole demeanor. 

" Yes, you bad man's dog," continued Blifldns, address- 
ing him ; " a stop must be put to this, sure, and to-day ends 
your continuance with us as a boai'der. My dear," said he, 
turning to Mrs. B., " I will send some one up for him this 
afternoon. Poor Sailor Boy ! " 

"You are in a great hurry about it, I think," said Mrs. 
Blifkins, " but that is as reasonable as you men are. Of 
course I didn't expect you to ask my advice about it — that 
would be out of the question." 

" But, my dear," replied Blifkins, tossing Sailor Boy, 
who was having a jolly time with Frederick Augustus, 
whom he had thrown down stairs, a cube of meat, " I cer- 
tainly understood you to express the wish to be rid of him, 
and was willing to gratify you. He has been a cause of 
trouble " — rubbing his roguish eye — " and perhaps it 
would be a9 well to get rid of him. I can give him 
away." 

" Give him away ! Yes, you can give him away, I dare 
say. But what will the children do when they go in swim- 
ming next summer, and get into deep water, if the dog isn't 
there to pull 'em out? They'll certainly drown; and then 
who will answer for it ? Not I, to be sure." 

"Well, I won't give him away, then," said Blifkins, 
"though I know somebody that will be very glad to have 
him." 

" Who ? " asked Mrs. Blifkins, with some animation. 

" Mrs. Simkins," replied he, carelessly. 

" Then she shall not have him," said she with warmth ; 
"and you should be ashamed of yourself for naming her to 
me. But I have done expecting anything else but ill- 
treatment and insult." 



92 PAETINGTONIAlSr PATCHWORK. 

Blifkins put on his hat and went ont, satisfied that he 
had secured a permanent home for Sailor Boy as long as 
he chose to live. He felt, as he went down town, that his 
forte did not lie in merchandise, but that Nature had de- 
veloped him largely for a diplomat. 



XVI. 

BLIFKINS TAKES A STAND. 

" How far does woman's sphere extend ? " said Blifkins, 
as he paid us his customary Monday morning visit. We 
informed him that, though it was not very definitely 
assigned, it was generally understood to be all round. " I 
should think so," said he, reaching over and taking a 
match, with which he proceeded to light a cigar, and 
pufied some time in silence, gazing upon the serene and 
pleasant countenance of Horace Greeley that hangs upon 
our wall. 

" I can't smoke at home," he said, after a while, gently 
knocking oflTthe ashes. 

" Why not?" we asked, half diverted from an amusing 
paragraph in the Daily Advertiser. 

" Mrs. Blifkins doesn't smoke herself, and rather insists 
upon it that 1 shall not," was the reply. 

There was a tenderness in his tone that betokened an 
aggrieved spirit. 

" Won't she let you smoke ?" we asked. 

" Why, ' loonH ' isn't exactly the word," he replied; " there 
is a qualification put in that redeems it from positive prohi- 
bition ; but, after all, it amounts to the same thing. The 
smoke, she says, injures the curtains, discolors the ceiling, 
impregnates the clothing ; she wonders how I can smoke, 



THE BLIFKINS PAPEES. 93 

and wken I would show her, she runs away, declaring I 
want to choke her." 

We saw there was something more on the poor fellow's 
mind, and so let it go off with the smoke without saying a 
word to him. 

" It is pretty much the same with everything else," he 
broke out at last. "I can't do right. My wife will be 
boss over everything. I was fixing the coal-pen a day or 
two ago, and had done, as I supposed, wonders in a me- 
chanical way, when my wife said, — 

" ' Mr. Blif kins, you should have put the boards on the 
other way.' 

" I raised my foot to kick — don't start — to kick the 
pen to pieces again, but my guardian angel whisjDered a 
suggestion of the folly and exjjense of the thing, and I re- 
frained. Why, I can't have a pair of pants or a vest made 
without her interfering. She presumes to answer for my 
religious faith, my social relations, and my j^olitical creed 
— to do everything but pay my bills. Worse than all this, 
I was shaving* this morning, in a state of mind as tranquil 
as a man can be under the sorrow of a dull razor, when 
my wife came in. 

" ' Mr. Blif kins,' said she, ' your lather isn't good.' 

"I scraped away without speaking, though I felt the 
irritation crawling through my veins to my veiy finger- 
tips. 

" ' Mr. Blifkins,' said she, ' you don't hold your razor 
right. You'll cut off your nose some time by your care- 
lessness.' 

" I could contain myself no longer. 

"'Mrs. Blifkins,' I cried, with some heat, as the razor 
scored a half-inch incision into my cuticle, ' anything but 
this. You may be boss in every department of the house- 
hold, from the mending of coal-pens and sawing of wood to 



94 PAETINGTONIAISr PATCHWOEK. 

the blacking of boots and the hanging of clothes-Unes ; but 
here is a job that I choose to boss myself. I feel jDositive 
that it is an operation quite outside of your sphere. Na- 
ture, Mrs. Blifkins, has fixed bounds here — settled them 
to a hair — by depriving you of the beard that is such a 
delightful ornament to the masculine sex ; and it is full 
bad enough to have to take care of it without female in- 
terference,' 

" I was clear, decisive, firm. There was a shower of tears, 
a volcano of reproaches, a vocabulary of expletives, of which 
" brute," often repeated, was the principal, and the scene 
closed with — Exit JBlifkinsP 

We soothed the poor fellow by telling him that there must 
be some drawback to felicity ; that all mundane bliss had 
its temporary offset ; and that he really was the happiest 
fellow in existence ; for what would he do if the interest 
thus expended on his behalf were withdrawn, and indif- 
ference substituted ? He thought of this a moment, said 
he supposed it was all right, and, as his cigar was out, ho 
went out also. 

Excellent Blifkins ! 

XVII. 

BLIFKINS THE PATRIOT. 

" We must show our colors," said Mrs. Blifkins, one 
morning at breakfast. " We are surrounded by ' copper- 
heads,' and shall not be distinguished from them if we do 
not hang out our banner." She was fiercely loyal. 

Blifkins was as delighted with the prudence of Mrs. B. 
as Avas Cowper's John Gilpin at the wholesome sugges- 
tions of his wife on their wedding day ; and with a prom- 
ise, on leaving, that a flag should be hoisted, and that right 



THE BLIFinNS PAPERS. 95 

speedily, he went out to secure the services of Mr, Plane, 
the joiner, in putting up a sufficient pole for the desired 
bunting. Mr. Blifkins thought it would not be necessary 
to init up a pole as tall as some, though his patriotism 
stood at the loftiest altitude ; and telling Plane to procure 
him one of twenty-five feet, he went down town to buy a 
flag. This was procured, — a beauty, blazing with the 
glory of thirty-six stars, — and forwarded to Blifkins's 
residence, to await the elevation of the flag-staff, soon ex- 
pected. 

Day by day passed, and Plane did not make his appear- 
ance with the desired staff; day by day did Mrs. Blifkins 
urge upon her husband the necessity for his " seeing about 
it ; " for she had mentioned their intention to neighbors, 
who were expecting it, and she had overheard some boys 
looking over their gate speculating as to where it was to 
be put, one mischievous little wretch saying to another, 
" Don't you wish you may see it ! " 

Upon several consultations with Plane, Blifkins was 
told that it was "got," "finished," "gone to be painted," 
" at the blacksmith's ; " and in the mean time Mrs. Blif- 
kins, with patriotic ingenuity, hung the banner in her win- 
dow, glorifying the end of the domicile that looked to- 
wards the street, leaving no doubt in the minds of passers- 
by that all was right in that house. 

" The flag-staff is uj)," said Mrs. Blifkins, with a voice 
of triumph, as Blifkins came home one evening, " and you 
must get up early in the morning to see about jjutting out 
the flag." 

It was too dark for Blifkins to observe how the work 
was done, but he could see the slender pole traced against 
the sky, that seemed jjointing among the galaxies which 
his own bright banner was to symbolize. He hummed to 
himself a line or two of Drake's od0, — 

" When Freedom from her mountain height," — 



96 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

and then went in to make preparations for a good time at 
the consecration of the flag. He would have a band of 
music, a free lunch, and fireworks in the evening. Proba- 
bly it would get into the papers, and he would be famous. 
Blifkins went to bed to dream of skies of red, white, and 
blue, and Goddesses of Liberty in short skirts dancing all 
around him, to the air of the Star-spangled Banner, j^layed 
by invisible bands. 

Just as Blifkins fancied he had got soundly to sleep, he 
awoke, and found it was morning. He arose, and his first 
thought was to look out of the window at the pole which 
23roudly occujiied the position in his premises, the flag on 
which was to delight the residents of three streets. He 
sent down to Crotchet for a dozen pieces of music, got his 
sandwiches all ready, and at the time appointed quite a 
crowd was present. Mrs. Blifkins, who had told her fe- 
male friends that it was the proudest day of her life, sat 
in full view of the scene, with a coterie of admiring and 
envious neighbors around her, as Blifkins came out bear- 
ing the bunting, which he was prepared to hoist with his 
own hands. 

Bilfkins looked at the pole, looked at the flag, looked at 
the people. He was reduced to a dilemma. He was no 
philosopher, and he was perplexed to know how he was to 
get the flag up to its position. He had seen flags floating 
from mast-heads and flag-stafis, and wondered if they were 
nailed there. 

" You must hoist it ! " screamed Mrs. Blifkins from the 
window. 

" Run it up, Blif ! " shouted a friendly voice from below. 

" Up with it ! " yelled a fiendish boy on top of the wood- 
shed. 

The musicians were all ready with the Star-spangled 
Banner, and the people all ready to cheer ; but Blifkins 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 97 

looked very red, and beckoned to a friend among the 
crowd to come up and help him. They were seen to 
confer a minute, then the friend burst out into a roar of 
laughter, and Blitkins looked the picture of disappoint- 
ment. They had discovered, what nobody had observed 
before, that Plane had neglected to reeve any halyards. 
There was no remedy but patience, and Blifkins had had 
his tried too severely in a twenty years' married life to al- 
low it to be overcome now. His was a temper to lift man 
over his accidents; and, dismissing the band, much to the 
disgust of the boys, he invited in his friends, and, with 
the flag hung upon the gas chandelier over the table, 
as good a time was enjoyed as though the thing had 
"come off." 

Plane was summoned, who received a lesson from Mrs. 
Blifkins that made him see more stars than there are in 
the American constellation, and " sent down " the pole to 
receive the proper halyards. This being done, Blifkins 
was instructed how to hoist the flag ; and soon the proud 
banner was seen moving heavenward with ostentatious 
show. Nobody but a small boy was near, who shouted, 
"Hi, hi!" as it ran up. There was now another dilemma. 
Plane had made the staff shorter by some five feet than 
that agreed upon; and there were eddies of air playing 
about between the buildings, antagonistic to patriotic dem- 
onstrations not more than twenty feet high. They were 
true national airs, and flouted all trivial demonstrations. 
The flag had a prevailing tendency to wind itself around 
the top of the staff, like a night-cap ; and at last Blifkins, 
finding it impracticable, went down to Plane again, with 
an order to add twenty feet more to the pole at once. 

The neighbors, with that kind sympathy which commis- 
erates failure and misfortune by laughing at it, shouted to 
Blifkins, as they went by, " When are you going to hoist 
7 



98 PARTINGTOKIAN PATCHWORK. 

your flag ? " which he answered mildly, and was content 
to wait until, w^ith twenty feet added to his flag-staiF, he 
could confound them, especially his " copperhead " neighbors} 
who had been outrageous in their abuse of him. He longed 
for his hour of triumph, which he was sure would soon 
come, as Plane had promised to have it done in a fort- 
night. The fortnight, however, passed, and the staflF was 
not done; another fortnight was consumed in lying and 
promises, and it did not come ; but one day, as he came 
home, resolved that he would next day seek some other 
carpenter, Mrs. Blifkins met him at the door, her face radi- 
ant with smiles. 

"Did you see anything as you came in? " she asked. 

" Yes," replied he ; " I saw your own bright face, which 
is always my delight." 

" Nonsense ! " said she ; " you are so provoking ! Didn't 
you see our flag ? " 

" No," he replied. 

" Well, it is up," said she ; " I put it up myself, and it has 
attracted lots of attention. More than twenty peojile have 
stopped to look at it. It blows out splendidly ! " 

He stepped to the window, and looked out. There, 
sure enough, hung the flag, blowing out, as she had said, 
with great freedom; but, alas for his peace and her taste, 
it was Union down, and at half stafi"! There were six 
people watching it from the street — all " coj^perheads." 
With almost a howl, Blifkins rushed out, and in less 
than one minute the flag Avas in his hands ; in a moment 
more it was reversed, and floating from the top of the 
staff. 

It is with malicious satisfaction that Blifkins, on any oc- 
casion where Mrs. Blifkins asserts her superiority, asks her 
which way she will have the Union hoisted ; but, though 
she is subdued, she is not conquered. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 99 

XVIII. 

BLIFKINS THE CONSUMER. 

" Grocers are terrible fellows," said Blifkins to us one 
morning, as he took us by the arm. We had just got past 
the store of Firkin & Tubb, and observed that he looked 
in there very timidly as we went by. 

We asked him what he meant by the remark he had 
just made. He hesitated a little, and then proceeded to 
confess that he was a victim to fear of grocers and provis- 
ion dealers. 

" When I first began housekeeping," said he, " I got 
along very well. I could go into the grocer's, and order 
an article with considerable confidence, and with a half 
belief that I was conferring a favor in buying of him. But 
I soon found my mistake. That was a mere delusion. I 
found that I was the obliged party, and that the sale of 
goods to me was a matter of condescension. That grocer 
was a terrible man. He sold me bad butter, bad sugar, 
bad molasses, bad everything ; but there was such a stern- 
ness about him that I didn't dare to say a word. 

" ' Mr. Blifkins,' says my wife, ' this tea is wretched.' 

"'So it is, my love,' I would reply; 'but what can 
we do?' 

'.' This was a settler of a question, and, like a sensible 
woman, she held her tongue. 

"'Mr. Blifkins,' says my wife, 'the last barrel of flour 
didn't hold out very well ; it was not full when it was 
bought.' 

"'My dear,' said I, 'we will have another barrel' 

"'Mr. Blifkins,' says my wife, 'that butter you sent 



100 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

home is awfully rancorous ; we never shall eat it; hadn't 
you better speak to Mr. Firkin about it ? ' 

" I did so, and the shock I received settled me. 

" ' Do you pretend to say,' said he, looking into my eye, 
* that the butter was bad ? ' 

" ' Really, Mr. Firkin,' said I, mustering courage, • I have 
seen better.' 

"' Better, sir! ' said he, in a voice of thunder and light- 
ning, ' I never had better butter in my store in my life ; 
and if you don't like it, I won't sell you any more.' 

" I apologized, and we went on again. 

"'Mr. Blifkins,' says my wife, 'this is wretched oil.' 

" ' Well, my dear,' said I, ' what can we do V ' 

"'Buy somewhere else,' says she, pi'omptly as the catch 
of a steel trap. 

"I looked at her to see if she wasn't a little out; but 
her cerulean eye never wore a clearer expression. 

" ' My dear,' said I, ' shan't we give offence by doing so ?' 

"'That for the offence!' said my wife, snapping her 
fingers contemptuously. 

"Down town, a few days afterwards, I went into a gro- 
cery, and sent home groceries enough to last for a month. 
I met Tubb in the street soon after, and says he, — 

" ' Blifkins, I half suspect you are buying goods some- 
where else. Now, I'll give you fair warning : if you do, 
I'll sue you for defamation of character, implied by your 
leaving us, and for damages in the profits we shall lose.' 

" 1 went down and saw a lawyer, and he told me, for ten 
dollars, that they couldn't do any such thing. I buy where 
I please now ; but I haven't got so that I can look him in 
the face yet, and go round the other street to get to ray 
house, because I dare not meet him. 

" The provision dealers are just as bad," continued he; 
"for when I bought a quarter of lamb,.the other day, down 



THE BLIFKINS PAPEES. 101 

town, my i^rovision dealer found it out, and raised a par- 
ticular storm about it ; and as for buying vegetables out 
of a cart, though I can get them a good deal cheaper, that 
is out of the question," 

We felt for Blifkins, and believe he is one of a great 
many who ai'e victims to grocers and provision dealers in 
one way or another. 



XIX. 

BLIFKINS THE RURALIST. 

Bltfkins had leased a house at a convenient distance 
from Boston, and every morning he might have been seen 
"with the "innumerable caravan " that streamed down town 
from one of our railroads, and, as the evening shades pre- 
vailed, with Ills basket of purchases, entering the railroad 
depot as regular as a cow accustomed to come into a byre 
for milking. 

When he first moved to his country residence, Mrs, Blif- 
kins and her mother — Blifkins was blessed in his mother- 
in-law, she was so good to advise — thought the place was 
charming. It was delightfully situated on the outskirts of 
the village, with a hill rising from the back door to a re- 
spectable altitude, and a brook but a short distance from 
the house, in which the children and the ducks could pad- 
dle with jDcrfect freedom, and where the frogs came at 
night to serenade the neighborhood, and soothe it into 
peaceful rest by their dulcet notes. 

His nearest neighbor, Mr. Sparin, dwelt in the house 
opposite, who, as Blifkins found a short time after he had 
located, was in the habit of indulging in occasional " times," 
— " benders " the initiated call them, — when he would be 



102 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOKK. 

away for several days in the enjoyment of sublime indiffer- 
ence to home and everything else ; but he was harmless to 
everybody except himself; and, after the fit Avas over, he 
would return, and settle down to work again as quietly as 
though nothing had happened, looking liis neiglibors in the 
face as composedly as though he had returned from a po- 
litical convention, or a missionary meeting in some other 
place. If any one inquired as to where he had gone, he 
had an answer always ready, that, to those unfamiliar with 
his habits, was of the most satisfactory character. He in- 
formed Blifkins, who Avas at first curious regarding liis 
disappearance, that he had been up in the country to see 
about some property that had been left to his wife ; and 
Blifkins had nothing more to say. 

Sparin had been aAvay tliree days at the time the grand 
incident of this veracious story transpired ; and, as Blif- 
kins alighted from the cars on his return from the city on 
that day, he was informed that Sparin had been seen by 
one of the neiglibors going towards home across the pas- 
ture. On arriving home, he was surprised to find his wife, 
and his mother-in-law, and all the children arr^mged along 
the front of the house in a sort of evening dress-parade, gaz- 
ing intently up towards Sparin's house. The night was 
calm and pleasant, and he thought at first, before he joined 
them, that they weie enjoying the beauties of the evening. 
He was past the dressing-gown and slippers period, and 
therefore knew the parade was not complimentary to him- 
self; but he said, by way of a joke, — 

" This, now, is really kind of you. There is nothing that 
cheers a man up so, on returning fatigued from business, 
like a kind reception from ' wife and weans.' This is really 
pleasant." 

"Blifkins, don't be a fool," said his wife; "but look up 
there." 



THE BLIFiaNS PAPERS. 103 

She pointed to a front upper window in Sparin's house, 
and a queer sight met his startled gaze. A bright light 
that sat on a table near the window shone full upon a hu- 
man face, that with staring eyes seemed to glare wildly 
upon vacancy, with a meaningless expression, motionless, 
while, at intervals of a few moments, alternate hands stole 
up to the top of the head, and then, with a seeming effort 
to grasp something, dropped again from sight. 

" A pretty place you've brought us to ! " said Mrs. Blif- 
kins, with the acid slightly preponderating over the sweet. 

"I'm glad to hear you say so, my dear," said he; "I 
knew you would like it. The quiet of the place and the 
convenience of access — ' five minutes walk from the depot,' 
as the advertisement said, though I must confess that the 
five minutes seem rather long between the railroad and 
ray treasures." 

Gallant Blifkins ! 

"Don't be a fool always," said Mrs. Blifkins; "what is 
that?" 

She pointed up at the window opposite, where the face 
yet remained — the eyes staring out into vacancy, and 
the hands alternately clutching the air, as it appeared. 
Poor Blifkins was as puzzled at the sight as was Belshaz- 
zar, when he saw the writing on the wall. He scarcely 
dared to breathe his suspicions to himself; but it at once 
ran through his mind that the fice opposite belonged to 
Sparin, who he deemed had come home, and was then in 
a fit of delirium tremens, fancying the air full of snakes 
and other venomous reptiles, and he was engaged in the 
interesting game of catching them. The idea was a hor- 
rid one, and he imparted his suspicions to Mrs. Blifkins 
with some timidity. Her mind immediately took alarm. 

" What if he should kill his fomily," said she, " with a 
carving-knife, and then go I'ound murdeiing his neighbors 



104 PABTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

and setting fire to their houses, and then finish with him- 
self! Gracious goodness, it makes my blood run cold." 

" I guess he won't do any hurt," said Blif kins, with af- 
fected cheerfulness. At that moment the figure gave 
what seemed a desperate grab, ns though a pai'ticularly 
big snake were aimed at, and Mrs. Blifkins, in a tone of 
great earnestness, said, — 

" Why don't you do something, stupid?" 

"What can I do?" responded the unfortunate Blifkins. 

"Why, go over and tie him," said the excellent woman, 
with a quick mind that never lacked for expedients. Blif- 
kins, however, looked timidly at the stony face and the 
staring eyes and the hands grasjiing at the snakes, and did 
not jump at her proposition with the alacrity that a tender 
husband ought to have done, she thought. 

He had a half-formed plan of rnising an alarm of fire, 
and bringing out the engine company, but was stayed by 
the imperative question from his wife, — 

"Why don't you go?" 

Mustering courage, he ran across the street, when it oc- 
curred to him that Uncle Bean, as he was called, a soldier 
of the " last war," lived in the house with Sparin, and 
would undoubtedly go in and see how it was with his un- 
fortunate neighbor. Uncle Bean, however, was in bed, 
and in response to Blifkins's knocks a window opened over 
the door, and a voice harshly demanded, Avhat the deuce 
was the row. Blifkins explained the matter as Avell as he 
could, which was poorly enough, as the veteran was a little 
hard of hearing. As soon as he could make the story out, he 
told Blifkins that he must be excused from doing anything, 
as he had just retired on four fingers of whiskey and a 
bad cold, and didn't want to be disturbed. He advised 
Blifkins to go down the street to Constable Grabem's, and 
get him to come up and attend to the affair, as it was his 
especial business. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPEKS. 105 

The office of constable had been filled, from time imme- 
morial, by some unfortunate Avho was unable, from bodily- 
infirmity or otherwise, to get a living, but who was deemed 
sufficient to preserve the peace and dignity of the town, 
though a home guard of seventy men are now enrolled for 
that purpose. 

Blifkins assured himself, as he came out again into the 
street, that the unfortunate was still there, though Mrs. 
Blifkins and the domestic forces had retreated to the cit- 
adel. 

"Mr. Blifkins !" said his wife from an upper story win- 
dow, " have you tied him ? " 

"Without deigning a reply, because it might involve too 
long an exiDlanation and provoke unpleasant remark, Blif- 
kins started at double quick for Grabem's, who lived some 
twenty rods down the street. The old fellow was cooling 
off in the porch of his house, tilted back in a chair made 
of a flour barrel, which just admitted his spacious person, 
and smoking a clay pipe. He heard the story patiently, 
but vouchsafed no reply to Blifkins's prognostications re- 
garding the inebriate's performance of mischief, except 
« Let him." 

" He'll cut his own throat, and then murder his family," 
said Blifkins. 

" Let him," replied Grabem, puffing away. 

" He'll set fire to the house, and burn the neighborhood ! " 
screamed Blifkins. 

" Let him ! " shouted the constable. 

"He'll kill everybody, and play the deuce generally!" 
yelled Blifkins* 

" Let him ! " roared the official, breaking the clay pipe as 
he tipped energetically forwaid. 

Blit kins went back, and bethought himself that Sparin 
had a son, — a sort of second edition of himself, — who 



106 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

was disposed of an evening to make merry, Avith boys of 
his age, by the grocery at the other side of: his residence, 
about as far as he had come to find the constable. He 
would go and see him, and have him go home and look 
after his eccentric paternal. He accordingly rushed, as 
fast as his weary limbs would cany him, to where he ex- 
pected to find the lad. He looked up at the house as he 
passed by, and there was the face still there, with the set 
eyes and the busy hands. 

Fortunately for Blif kins, the boy was found ; and on be- 
ing informed of the suspicions concerning his j^arent, and 
expressing his own convictions thereon in a very preco- 
cious manner, involving sundry unfilial remarks, implying 
a wish that he might be permitted to punch his head, they 
started down the street together. The outposts of the 
Blifkins stockade saw them coming down the street by the 
uncertain light of the stars, and the whole garrison turned 
out to meet them, with the I'emark of Mrs. Blifkins, that 
he had been gone two hours, and that all of them might 
be killed and scalped if they depended upon such as he for 
protection. It was an exaggeration with regaid to the 
time, because not more than half an hour had elapsed since 
he had arrived from the city; but something must be al- 
lowed for excitement, when a maniac, threatening violence, 
and perhaps death, was in the case. 

Blifkins thought it would be best for the boy to go in, 
while he would wait outside of the door, armed with a 
bludgeon, to rush in at the first alarm. He accordingly 
provided himself with a cat-stick, and stood Avith a beat- 
ing heart to await the result. He heard no sound from 
within. The stillness of death prevailed. Could it be 
possible that the maniac had rushed upon the lad suddenly 
and strangled him! He glanced up at the window, and 
saw that the stony face had disappeared. He couldn't 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 107 

leave his youthful ally to perish. The respect of the neigh- 
borhood, his self-respect, and, more than all, the respect of 
Mrs. Blifkins, whom he still saw watching hira from the 
opposite side of the way, forbade so cowardly a thing. 
He seized his cudgel with a firmer grasp, and was lifting 
his foot to take a step nearer the door, when he heard a 
step upon the stairs inside, and the door opened. He was 
relieved by seeing that it was the boy, who said, — 

« It's all right." 

"What's all right?" cried Blifkins, taking him by the 
collar and dragging him across the street to where the im- 
patient group were awaiting the denouement of the scene. 

" It's only mother," said he, as soon as he could speak ; 
" you see she Avears a wig, and was sitting there where you 
saw her, pulling out the short hairs that were growing on 
her head — slie's as bald as a plate." 

" Just as I thought," said Mrs. Blifkins, " and anybody 
but a fool would have seen it at once. I declare I believe 
Blifkins is growing stupider and stupider every day. I'm 
thankful none of the children take after him." 

" True, dear," chimed in his mother-in-law ; but it couldn't 
be expected any different, because men are never so con- 
siderable as women. Though he hadn't ought to try your 
feelings so at such a time." 

" O, my feelings are not of any consequence," said Mrs. 
Blifkins ; " I never expect any consideration for them." 

Blifkins with a tried spirit went into the house, the light 
had disa23peared from the pane opposite, he heard his chil- 
dren say their prayers as he put them to bed, and sat 
down in velvet slippers and tranquil meditation, thanking 
his lucky stars that he had been saved from participating 
in what might have been a tragedy, had the fates so 
willed it. 



108 PABTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 



XX. 

BLIFKINS'S MIDNIGHT CALL, 

Me. Blifkins in his domestic economy for many years 
has retained the allopathic system of medicine, and, by his 
liberal encom-agement of apothecaries, has established quite 
a reputation Avith that class. As, in the event of sickness, 
each application required new bottles and new pill-boxes, it 
may be supposed that during the twenty years of his ex- 
perience, there was about his house a formidable aggregate 
of half-used prescriptions, reminders of several moderate 
fortunes that had been thrown to the dogs in the form of 
physic, about the use and effect of which the memory of 
Blifkins ceased to be cognizant. Mrs. Blifkins, however, 
insisted upon keeping them, from an economical desire that 
nothing should be wasted ; for she is a great economist, 
and there is not one in the neighborhood that excels her. 
Her house is a curiosity shop of relics of past economies 
that have survived all earthly uses, and lie mouldering in 
a hundred nooks around the house, and bottles and boxes 
in a closet handy are numerous enough to set up a drug- 
gist of not inordinate desires. She pretended, and actual- 
ly thought, probably, that she knew the difference between 
a cough mixture and a wash for weak eyes, could discrimi- 
nate betwixt rheumatic and dyspepsia pills, and knew can- 
tharides from Dover's powders readily. Blifkins had long 
been doubtful about this, though, wliich doubt recently 
produced an entire revolution in his household pharmacy. 
But Mr. Blifkins tells his own story best, and we leave its 
recital to him. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 109 

i 

" ' Mr. Blifkins,' says my wife, suddenly starting up in 
the bed and looking wildly into the face of little Tommy, 
' I believe this child is going to have the croup, or the 
scarlet fever, or something. Mr. Blifkins ! ' 

"I had got to the stage of sleep when one is conscious 
of sleeping and waking at the same time — the senses 
steeping with somnolent poppies, but not quite narcotized 
into forgetfulness. 

" ' Mr. Blifkins ! ' repeated my wife, giving me this time 
an unmistakable pinch. 

"' What in the name of tribulation is the matter?'! 
cried in something like a pet ; ' is the house on tire ? ' 

"'No; but something is the matter with Tommy,' she 
replied; 'perhaps he's going to liave the croup — maybe 
he'll have a fit — he's very restless.' 

" I started up and looked in the face of that little inno- 
cent. They always said he looked just like me, and cer- 
tainly that midnight inspection gave very little encourage- 
ment to self-vanity, for a more disagreeable-looking little 
cub I thought I had never seen. He was evidently in 
trouble, for his features worked, his tiny fists were clinched 
hard, his eyes were partly unclosed, and his skin seemed 
quite dry and hot. I immediately took my wife's alarm. 

"'What's to be done? ' I asked. 

" ' Mr. Blifkins,' said she, ' we must give hira something.' 

"'Exactly,'! responded; 'but what shall it be ? You, 
who are such an excellent nurse, shall decide.' 

" ! arose, and, ' accoutred as ! was,' stood ready to exe- 
cute her command. ! signified this to her by saying, — 

" ' Now, my dear, say the word.' 

" ' Let me see,' said she ; ' if it is the croup, the medicine 
in the bottle on the left hand side of the closet is the one. 
It was bought for Mary, two winters ago.' 

" I immediately proceeded to the closet adjacent to our 



110 PAETDirGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

room, the interior of which was revealed by the dim light 
of the gas. There were long rows of phials on the shelves, 
backed by bottles of hair dye, and boxes of undefinable 
articles in the domestic dispensary. I saw what I sup- 
posed was the needed bottle ; but, in extricating it from 
its position, I threw down some half a dozen of the inter- 
vening phials, that rattled and clattered upon the floor in a 
manner that sounded fearfully, some of them breaking, and 
the glass scattering around, to the dismay of my bare 
feet. 

"'Z>o break everything to pieces! 'said my wife, in a 
tone not very sweet, considering her amiability of temper; 
but I imputed it to her anxiety. I brought the bottle, and 
jDlaced it in her hands. 

" ' Good Heavens, Mr. Blif kins,' said my wife, ' would 
you kill the child ? This is volatile liniment.' 

"'The d — it is,' cried I, with unwarrantable heat. My 
wife sobbed out, — 

" ' O, Mr. Blif kins, suppose we had given him some of 
this by mistake ! — you never would have forgiven yourself.' 

" I thought the change of person in her remark a little 
invidious, and somewhat unkind, in view of the fact that 
she had command of the medicine chest. 

" ' I took the bottle from the place you told rae,' said I, 
almost fiercely, 

'"You couldn't have done so, Mr. Blifkins,' replied my 
wife ; ' I saw it on the right hand, just inside the door, no 
longer ago than Tuesday week, when Mrs. McGonagle 
cleaned the paint.' 

'-'-'■ Right hand ?' I repeated after her; 'you said the left 
just now.' 

"I heard her sigh out something about ' cruelty ' and 
' unfeelingness ' as I went to make another plunge among 
the army of bottles. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPEES. Ill 

"'This must be it, then,' said I, seizing a fom* ouncer, 
nearly full of a dark fluid, by the neck, and bringing it out 
to my wife. 

"'Gracious goodness!' exclaimed she; 'are you deter- 
mined to kill the child ? That's arnica, for the rheumatism. 
Mr. Blif kins, are you awake?' 

" Without replying this time, I made a dive for the closet, 
taking down phial after phial, and reading the smeared in- 
scriptions as well as I could. What an ocean of lotions, 
and mixtures, and vermifuges, and preparations, and washes! 
At length I got hold of one that I felt sure must be it, be- 
cause I could not by any ingenuity decipher the label. I 
accordingly carried it to Mrs. Blifkins with the confident 
air of one who has achieved an immense exploit, holding 
it out to her with a, ^ Tho-e f exipressive of my satisfac- 
tion. 

"'That!' said my wife; 'that's not it; that is the chalk 
mixture, bought for Bub two summers ago.' 

" I broke down at this, and with a voice tremulous with 
cold, though my wife always wrongfully said it was with an- 
ger, I asked her why, in the name of some deity or other, she 
didn't get up and find it herself? She immediately arose 
to the occasion, like a speaker at a Fourth of July dinner, 
and sublimely strode towards the closet, returning, a mo. 
ment thereafter, with two bottles that had escaped my 
notice, which she held up before me with the simple but 
comprehensive remark, — 

"'Stupid!' 

" I felt that I was stupid, and was ready to admit the 
fact, when I was struck by the puzzled look that appeared 
upon my wife's face. 

" ' Let me see,' said she. 

" I made a motion to turn up the gas, so that she 
might see, but found that she required a clearer vision re- 



112 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

garding some mental problem that she was solving ; so I 
let her see as she best might. 

'"I declare,' said my wife, 'I don't know whether this 
is the bedbug poison or the croujj specific, they are so 
much alike.' 

" ' Perhaps he hasn't got the croup,' said I, as I stooped 
over the bed ; and there lay the little fellow wide awake, 
threshing the air with his two tiny fists, and making up all 
sorts of faces at the shadows uj^on the wall. I saw in a 
moment that we had deceived ourselves, as most parents 
will ; and, turning away, I wickedly said, — 

" ' Give me the medicine ! I think he's going to have a 
fit — ' 

"My wife shrieked. 

" ' Of laughter,' I immediately added, and received a box 
on the ear for my reward. I addressed my wife solemnly, 
for I felt serious : — 

" ' Here we have been collecting together this precious 
amount of trash for years for an emergency, and now, 
when the emergency comes, what is it good for? I tell 
you what, wife — this is the end of such nonsense. Will 
you be so kind as to open that window ? ' 

"She did so, and in three minutes every vial and its con- 
tents were in the street. People opened their windows to 
ascertain the meaning of the crash of glass, and were much 
astonished the next morning to learn the cause of it, but 
more so to hear me say that I would have nothing more 
to do witli doctor's stuff, unless it was in the form of small 
pellets, so harmless that nightshade could be taken as well 
as catnip, for the same diseases, with impunity." 



THE BLITKms PAPERS. 113 

XXI. 

BLIFKINS THE EXPERIMENTALIST. 

" There," said Blifkins, as he laid a small paper pack- 
age upon the table, while a strong smell of camphor per- 
vaded the apartment, " I guess that will fix 'era." 

" Fix who ? " asked Mrs. B., wildly, cs she thought of 
her children, or some other poisoned victims of Mr. B.'s 
sudden insanity. 

" Have you seen Amos ? " he continued, without an- 
swering her question, 

" Amos ? What Amos ? " she queried, half rising from 
her chair, as if to cry for help in the event of his being 
violent. 

" Amos-quito ! " he almost shouted. 

" Now, don't make a jack of yourself, Benjamin, if you 
can help it," said she. " The little brains you have got 
should be devoted to better uses than making fmi of the 
wife of your bosom; but I have learned to bear it, and am 
now ready to ' suffer and be strong.' What have you got 
in that parcel ? " 

" That ? Dead Shot for mosquitos — Amos, you know. 
I read it in the paper that gum camphor, burnt in a room, 
is a certain antidote against 'em, and I'm bound to try it. 
But now, little wife, let us have supper, for I am as hungry 
as a meeting-house." 

" Do be a little more choice in your comparisons, Benja- 
min. The children all copy you in spite of all I can say. 
Only yesterday little Jimmy said he didn't care 'three 
shakes of a shee^^'s tail ' for his uncle Joshua, who is al- 
ways giving him moral lessons." 
8 



114 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

" Well, let's have supper, wife, and then, — 

' When the evening shades prevail, 
We'll take an old tin pan or pail, 
And straightway with the burnt camphire 
We'll give the skeeters Jeremiah.' 

See Watts for the authority — quoted from memory." 

"That's right; go on making fun of the most serious 
things. No wonder the children get all sorts of queer no- 
tions into their heads ; but they shall never blame me for 
it when they grow up." 

Blifkins chatted with his children, said a cheerful word 
to his Avife, praised the cooking, and as the table girl, who 
was quite good looking, passed his chair, he gave her a 
smile that Mrs. Blifkins detected. 

"That's pretty," said she, "for a married man to do 
right in the presence of his wife and children ! But I have 
no right to expect anything else. Hadn't you better in- 
stall that minx in my place, and done with it ? " 

" No, my dear," said Blifkins ; " I am very well content- 
ed with the one I chose, among fifty, to preside over my 
mahogany, and am not disposed to change at present." 

After supper Blifkins romped with the children, joked 
with Mrs. B., and forced that estimable lady into a degree 
of pleasant humor that was quite startling. Before they 
well knew it, the hour of bed-time had arrived, when the 
children were kissed good night previous to being put in 
their little beds, and Mr. and Mrs. B. retiied to their 
chamber, which had been terribly invaded by hordes of 
mosquitos, making sleep impossible for several nights. 

"I declare, my dear," said Blifkins, when just ready for 
bed, " I've forgotten, in the pleasures of the evening, my 
camphor. It is on the dining-room table. I'll run down, 
and get it." 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 115 

"What!" almost screamed Mrs. Blifkins, "and meet, 
perhaps, the servant girls on the stairs ! I'll go myself." 

And go she did. 

" And now," said he, " little wife, for some implement in 
which to burn the camphor. Let me see : your little dust- 
shovel will do. Where is it ? " 

" What a plague you are, Benjamin ! " replied Mrs. B. ; 
"and I don't believe it will amount to anything, after it is 
all done. There's the shovel." 

Blifkins crumbled up about a great spoonful of the cam- 
phor, and, placing it in the shovel, held it over the gas- 
burner, waiting for it to burn. He was soon rewarded 
by seeing it smoke, and then, a moment after, there was a 
poof! and a blaze, and Blifkins, starting at the suddenness 
of the conflagration, dropped the shovel, and Mrs. B. turned 
off the gas. The camphor fell into the wash-basin, where 
it soon burnt out, the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Blifkins look- 
ing ghastly in the light while it lasted, and their night- 
dresses rendered the scene very spectral. 

" Better luck next time," said Blifkins, smiling in the 
dark, and feeling round for the camphor. 

" Nonsense ! " replied Mrs. B., sententiously. 

" I'll succeed or perish in the attempt," said Benjamin, 
brandishing the shovel, as he relighted the gas. 

" You'll never do anything with it," replied Mrs. B. ; 
" and if I were a mosquito, I should laugh at you." 

" By the way," said Blifkins, as he crumbled the cam- 
phor, " did you ever hear that it was the female mosquitos 
that do all the stinging?" 

"A story- invented by a man," replied she, " to slander 
us poor women, as though we hadn't enough laid upon us 
already," 

" Well, here we go again," said Blifkins, holding his 
shovel over the blaze. 



116 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

This time the gum ignited finely, and a bright blaze and 
a dense smoke followed, the latter rising to the ceiling in a 
black cloud, and rolling along tlie wall in opaque convolu- 
tions. This experiment was followed by another; and as 
B., like the fabled Colossus of Rhodes, as depicted, stood 
with his hand raised aloft, holding the blazing shovel, lie 
passed the open door where his children lay, the oldest of 
whom, waking, shouted, " Fire ! " and rushed for the entry, 
where the servant girls were huddling, having already 
smelt the smoke. They opened the door, and all rushed 
in pell-mell, as Blifkins was completing his last grand 
round before the flame sunk to its grave, and then rushed 
out again, as Mrs. B. threw herself into the breach, and 
forced them back. The cry of the child had attracted at- 
tention in the street, besides ; and Blifkins, hearing a mur- 
mur of voices below, looked out upon a crowd of people 
assembled, and a voice demanded, — 

" What the deuce is the matter ? " 

He assured them that nothing was the matter; that his 
child was frightened, that's all, with a nightmare ; and told 
them there was no need of the hose-carriage they had 
brought from round the neighboiing corner. After some 
altercation, the crowd dispersed, an opinion being expressed 
that Blifkins was " a humbuggin' cuss." 

The house at last was still, and the pair retired to sleep 
in an atmosphere of camphor smoke that was almost" suf 
focating. 

" Now, my dear," said Blifkins, " I hope we shall enjoy 
a quiet night's sleep, free from the trumpet-notes of the 
mosquitos." 

B-z-z-z, b-z-z-z ! right in his very ear. 

At that moment Mrs. B. gave herself a severe slap in 
the face, as if she were inflicting personal chastisement; 
and Blifkins, with both arms out of bed, thrashed the 
air like a windmill. 



THE BLIFKINS PAPERS. 117 

" I told you so," said Mrs. B., giving herself a dig in the 
eye, and bringing her elbow plump on Blifkins's nose ; 
" but you never will take my advice. I am done expect- 
ing that. Men nowadays had rather ask the advice of 
other people's wives than their own, and I suppose it is all 
right; but don't think it is just the thing (slap) to expect 
everything of a woman, and withhold confidence (slap), 
and smile at servant maids, and visit other women (a vi- 
cious slap) ; and now this last farce that you have played 
(slap), with a shirt so ridiculously short ; and Heaven knows 
where it will end (slap), which was disgraceful enough ; 
and the girls rushing in as they did — " 

She drew the sheet over her head, her voice died to a 
confused murmur, and Mrs. Blifkins slept. 

Blifkins fought in silence with his fate. The enemy 
had been driven from the ceiling above, and had attacked, 
front and rear, in the field below, coming not as single 
spies, but in battalions, until he was fain to beat a retreat, 
and hide his head beneath a defence of cotton cloth, vow- 
ing to himself, as he passed into the land of dreams, that 
he would do on the morrow what he should have done 
long before — buy some mosquito netting. 

Next morning it was found that the snow-white wall 
was grimy with the smoke, the paper smutched, and a 
villanous smell remained, an abiding evidence of the night 
attack. The whole affliir was the subject of a severe lec- 
ture at the breakfast table, and a reaffirmation by Mrs. B. 
of the often-repeated statement that there never was a 
woman so cruelly treated as she. 

When Blifkins arrived at the store, he took up the Post, 
and the first item that met his view was : — 

"There was a Flicrbt fire nt the house of Mr. Benjamin Blifkins, 
No. 16 Cliff Street, iiist evening; but it was extinsiiislied by Officers 
Mudhead and Spinks without onusing a general alarm." 



THE MODERN SYNTAX. 



DR. SPOONER IN SEARCH OF THE DELECTABLE. 



119 




DR. SPOONER IN SEARCH OF THE DELECTABLE. 



INTRODUCING DR. SPOONER. 



Those who have been privileged listeners of Dr. 
Dionysius Spooner, as lie has described to them his 
adventures while in search of "the Delectable," will 
not be offended at this imperfect rendering of them ; 
while others who have not been thus privileged will 
see in them the struggles of a great mind towards the 
attainment of an object, and may receive from their 
example an impetus in the right direction, as though 
it were from the toe of an intellectual boot, energeti- 
cally applied. The writer became acquainted with 
the doctor through a train of very singular, yet nat- 
ural, circumstances — singular from the manner of 
their occurrence, rather than their character. Pass- 
ing the streets one day, he overheard two gentlemen 
earnestly in conversation, one of whom said, " Well, 
Dr. Spooner said so." This sentence forced itself 
upon his mind, and he pondered upon what Dr. 
Spooner could have said, and who Dr. Spooner was, 
with no hope of solving the mystery. He was after- 
wards at a picture sale, where the fate of an original 

121 



122 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

Rembrandt, the subject of which none could make out, 
was hanging on the blow of the auctioneer's mallet. 
" Why, gentlemen," said he, " will you let this go so 
low, when Dr. Spooner vouches for its authenticity? " 
The bids then ran rapidly up to a dollar and a half, 
when it was knocked off. Dr. Spooner again ! He 
was evidently a connoisseur, but there was no room 
for inquiry. When the steamboat Henry Morrison 
went down in Boston Harbor, it was stated that Dr. 
Spooner was present, and lent able assistance in pre- 
paring the chowder. He thus proved himself an 
epicure, — an "epicac" Mrs. Partington called it, — 
and again provoked the inquiry, " Who is Dr. 
Spooner?" The answer to the question was further 
deferred, and on a day some months later, while the 
writer was in a store matching some calico for home 
consumption, there was quite a commotion near the 
door. He asked the meaning thereof, and was told 
that Dr. Spooner was passing by. " Tell me," said 
he, suddenly seizing his informant by the collar, " who 
is Dr. Spooner ? " The person extricated himself, and 
simply saying, "I don't know," he passed out. There 
was no one present who could answer the question. 
But Fate was kinder. One day, while purchasing his 
dinner at a stall in the market, a remarkable and very 
imposing person was cheapening a leg of mutton at the 
same, having purchased which, and given a very lucid 
direction as to how it should be trimmed, he threw 



ESTTKODUCING DE. SPOONEE. 123 

down a card, to tlie address of which he wished the 
dehcacy sent. Glancing at it, the writer read, — 



mt 



CHIROPODEST, 

111 Q Street." 

Here was a discovery ! " Hesitating then no longer," 
the writer hastily said, " Pardon me, sir ! but I am very 
desirous of making your acquaintance. Your name 
has reached me so favorably, that you need not pro- 
duce vouchers of character ; for myself, try me." " I 
should, perhaps, leave the tribunals to do that," said 
he, blandly, "but I like your impudence, and will 
encourage your advances. Come and see me, and we 
will make an equal exchange — you try my mutton 
and I will try you ; sheejD for sheep, you know." The 
victim was annoyed, but gulped down his chagrin. 
This was the commencement of an acquaintance most 
beneficial to the writer. Wliile, paregorically speak- 
ing, sitting at the feet of tliis modern Gamahel, the 
narration of his efforts to attain the Delectable has 
fallen in showers of soporific illusion about the ears of 
the listener, until, inspired, the Muse plumed herself 
for the flight that should portray the persistency which 
strove for so much and gained so httle. He trusts that 
the recital may afford pleasure, and win for the sub- 
ject thereof a new renoAvn. 



THE MODERN SYNTAX. 

DR. SPOONER IN SEARCH OF THE DELECTABLE. 



On Monday morning, with the sun uprist, 
Good Dr. Spooner ate his steak in haste, 

And hurried down his coffee and his twist, 
As though no moment he would idly waste. 

Then took his cane within his sturdy fist, 
With animation on his features traced, 

And started forth in attitude reflectable,* 

To seek 'mid airs mundane, the goal Delectable. 

* The author at the outset — before he has led the good doctor 
through any of the labyrinthine walks of life — with the indepen- 
dence of the poet, who will not be limited by the conventionalties 
of dictionaries, grammars, or common sense, claims the right to coin 
as many words as his opinion, or the needs of rhyme, may require. 
Hence the word " reflectable ; " and the claim is introduced to disarm 
the critics of the Atlantic, North American, or Foreign Quarterly, 
who might snap at this seeming and only fault, as a pickerel might 
at a frog's leg. 

125 



126 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

II. 

Before him lay the undeveloped scene 

That Fate hnpatient waited him to show ; 

He stood a moment with a thoughtful mien, 
As if uncertain which path he should go, 

Then held his cane his finger tips between, 
That, by its falling, he his course might know. 

North-east ! 'Tis well. Now all my doubts at rest, 

Since chance so wills it, I'll go sou'-sou'-west. 

III. 

Not he, alone, to go adverse to Fate ; 

Some do, with all prognostics pointing clear, 
And full success attending at the gate; 

They do not stop propitious hints to hear. 
But chitch at phantom shapes that tempting wait, 

Till, to their disappointment and their fear, 
They see their error and neglected track. 
With little hope of ever getting back. 



All have desire to win the happy goal, 

And all strike out o'er some illusive gravel. 

Investing hope and earnestness of soul 
The mystery of the future to unravel, 

Finding, too oft, to their dismay and dole. 
Their road, like Jordan, very hard to travel 

Their delectation, like the Paddy's flea. 

Within their grasp, and yet not quite to be. 



THE MODERN SYNTAX?* 127 

V. 

Diversity of tastes prompts divei's aims, 

And, as the whim controls, men bhndly go it, 

Pursuing here and there their little games. 

Through which, for bliss set out, they think they'll 
show it ; 

Each plays his part, with equal hopes and claims, 
Trusting that Fate propitious will bestow it ; 

But very few attain the culmination 

That gives the sought-for boon of delectation. 

VI. 

Though, for that matter, comes the question up, 

What is the boon for which they thus are striving? 

Fill to the brim Joy's most enchanting cup, 

Some would reject it, other draughts contriving. 

Being more happy far to take a sup 

From sombre springs, or in their depths be diving ; 

A strange anomaly we too often see, 

Where happiness is sought in misery. 

VII. 

No sympathy have I with such as these ; 

But what they do is what they deem the best ; 
The genial soul, the heart in fullest ease, 

Comes up the nearest my ideal of blest ; 
We will not quarrel — each his pathway sees, 

And travels it for happiness in quest : 
Each to his taste, as the old lady said 
What time she kissed the tenant of the shed. 



128 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

VIII. 

So Dr. Spooner, with his heart aglow, 

Stood ready to attain the boon I speak of; 

The Fates had fixed the path that he must go 
By his cane's falling — you recall the freak of — 

But rested as he fc4t the breezes blow 

From a fair hill of which he saw the peak of, 

And thus addressed them', like a necromancer 

Demanding of unsentient things an answer : 

IX. 

" Tell me, ye winged winds, as on ye fly. 

Hast come from scenes where delectation waits ? 

Point me, O winds, that spot beneath the sky 
Where perfect joy the craving spirit sates ; 

Direct my steps, that I may quickly hie 

Where bliss unfolds its amaranthine gates !" . 

The winds deigned no reply, but swifter sped, 

Tearing the doctor's hat from off his head. 



There is no moi'e provoking thing I know 

Than this : to bave one's hat torn from his pate. 

No sympathy doth any one bestow. 

And grins the awkward accident await ; 

The curious crowd look on to see us go, 
As we pursue the fleeing thing of hate, 

Until, perhaps, some chap, a little faster, 

Plants his thick No. Twelves on our new castor. 



THE MODERN SYNTAX. 129. 



He stood a moment when regained his tile, 

And on the incident reflecting dwelt ; 
He paid the fact the tribute of a smile, — 

A feeling tribute, for the hat was felt. 
"I've chased this hat the fraction of a mile," 

He said, " and this sage thought comes through my pelt ; 
That, as I've won it, racing with the wind, 
' In the long run ' I happiness shall find." 

XII. 

And, thus assured, he sped with eager feet, 

Caroming here and there as on he flew, 
Pushing some off" the sidewalk to the street, 

And by collision bringing others to. 
Exciting talk we will not now repeat. 

And angry thoughts awaking not a few, 
"When to a full stop was he quickly brought, 
Like a blue-bottle in a fly-trap caught. 

XIII. 

There moved along, exactly in his way. 
One of those well-made-up, artistic women, 

Who are, as one -might very justly say. 

One quarter flesh and blood and three fourths trimmin' ; 

He tried to pass her, giving amj^le play 
To all the furbelows about her streamin'. 

When, spite of all his wary care and pain. 

He found his boots entangled in her train. 
9 



130 PARTINGTONIAlSr PATCHWORK. 

XIV. 

He turned about and gazed on what he'd done, 
Confounded at the seeming mischief dire ; 

But when he saw the spitefuhiess that shone 
Forth from her eyes, hke that same baleful fire 

We read about, excuse he proffered none, 
But said, " If I am sorry I'm a liar ; 

What right had she, at just that time, to spread 

Above the spot whereon I chose to tread ? " 

XV. 

But in a moment more he felt contrite, 

And held his head down with emotion humble ; 

He o'er the pave had no exclusive right. 

And, 'mongst her things-come-afterwards to stumble, 

He had endangered an annoying 2:)light, 

At which she well might fi-own on him or grumble ; 

And then he turned, repentant, but, a goner, 

He saw the lady turn a distant corner. 

XVI. 

And this impressed itself upon his mind : 

No one is happy disregarding otliers, 
As men are so untwistingly combined 

That rending one the great remainder bothers; 
And but as one is just, polite, and kind, 

And all his selfish aspirations smothers, 
Can he expect that h:ip))iness below 
Which the exalted soul alone can know. 



.(0N3E 




DR. SPOONER ON A TRAIN. — P;i-e 130. 



THE MODERN SYNTAX. 131 

XVII. 

He moved along 'mid scenes of active life, 

And stoutly strove his object to attain; 
There was excitement in the pressing strife, 

But with it all there mixed a sense of pain; 
With selfishness society was rife, 

And finding all his expectation vain. 
Heart-sick and weary, with unlevel head. 
He turned himself towards home, and went to bed. 

XVIII. 

And then the dreams born of his urgent wish ! 

Led through fair scenes that waking ne'er reveals, 
Feasting on spreads of flesh, and fowl, and fish. 

Quaffing rare drinks of most attractive seals. 
All right side up his favor-beckoning dish. 

Holding such cards as kindest fortune deals, 
Waking at morn with resolution stout. 
His quest for happiness to carry out. 

XIX. 

One day is like another in the race 

For some pet object, every else forgot ; 
So the good doctor daily held his chase 

To find 'mong mundane scenes the blissful lot, 
The one strong hope to rest his weary pace 

When he should reach the delectating spot. 
Of all the spots that I know worth the trying 
A fifty spot is the most satisfying. 



132 PATINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

XX. 

Thus, as with zeal elate he wandered out, 
His mind intent on seeking delectation, 

And with an eager eye he looked about. 
Giving all things a wise examination, 

Unheeding an admonitory shout. 

That of some danger made ejaculation, 

There came a snow-slide from some upper height, 

And Dr. Spooner disapjDeared from sight ! 

XXI. 

A mingled feel waits accidents like these : 
A grateful thrill, like an unuttered prayer, 

As one from peril saved his status sees, 
And then a pressing tendency to swear, 

Which from oppressive wrath the temper frees, 

— So some folks think, in which I take no share, — 

But the good doctor, as he moved once more. 

Took stock in neither mood, nor prayed nor swore. 

XXII. 

In fact, just then in search for happiness, 
And doubtful if 'twere jiious or profane. 

He would not compromise his chance for bliss, 
But non-committal would a while remain. 

Many another does the same as this. 
Desirous some pet object to attain; 

For policy and selfishness prevail. 

While interest steers and caution trims the sail. 



THE MODERN SYNTAX. 133 

XXIII. 

The greatest pleasure that the world can give 
Is that we draw from intellectual sources ; 

Freed from the sensuous dross in which we live, 
We 'mid the purer ethers vent our forces, 

And misspent hours we happily retrieve 
In following those crystal water-courses 

That flow from founts in mental mountains springing. 

And to our feet the choicest gifts are bringing. 

XXIV. 

So Dr. Spooner thought he'd take to books. 

And bought them lavishly, — all subjects choosing, — 

Having them placed in their adapted nooks, 
With catalogues their resting-place disclosing ; 

Bound handsomely in calf, that graceful looks 
Might add attraction and enhance the using, — 

All books that might a reader's thoughts awaken. 

From Blood-and-Thunder Nibs to Friar Bacon. 



His heart ached at the woe of thrilling stories, 
Fraught with depictions of unreal life ; 

He read in histories the crowning glories 
That flowed from fields of sanguinary strife; 

Philosophy and physics passed before his 
Eyes, with the light of ripe reflection rife. 

Yet betwixt Reade and Bacon he confessed 

He'd neither read, but thought Reade was the best. 



134 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

XXVI. 

Then borrowers came, and fastened on his hoard, 
Splitting his sets remorselessly to pieces ; 

And in those cases where they were restored, 

They came back dog-eared and defiled with creases ; 

Until, at last, beyond endui-ance bored. 

Said he, " From now henceforward all this ceases ! " 

Then locked his door upon his precious shelves, 

And left his authors pondering on themselves. 

XXVII. 

The temjiter whispered, " Go it while you're young ! 

Taste the delirious tumult of the hour ; 
The syren sings as sweet as e'er she sung, 

The senses plead with unabated power ; 
Bring your dull soul joy's halcyon scenes among. 

And pluck, while yet it blooms, life's brightest flower; 
Don't mure yourself till felt years' chilling blasts, 
And quaff the cup of pleasure while it lasts." 

XXVIII. 

In dissipation did the doctor dip, 

And strove to find what fun there might be in it. 
He pressed the sparkling goblet to his lip, 

Till his old head hummed like an ancient spinet ; 
He joined in pleasure's jolly partnership. 

In wild adventure mixing every minute ; 
But when he.found his nose all raw and red, 
" There's very little fun in sport like this," he said. 



THE MODERN SYNTAX. 135 



A wholesome lesson this, that all may learn 

Who try such roads to find the bliss they crave. 

They're lit by lamps that oil Plutonic burn, 

And lead through scenes that weaken and enslave ; 

Brigands of Passion lurk at every turn 

To trip the feet of those their prowess brave, 

And the "good times" that lured the soul away, 

Are drafts on time, with no funds left to pay. 

XXX. 

Many of those these sprightly lines who read 
Know how it is themselves — no slang intended. 

Though fair the promise all too pronely heed. 
With honeyed hope and expectation blended, 

The hope soon prematurely goes to seed. 

And winter comes before the summer's ended ; 

The roses turn to ashes 'neath the tread. 

And dirges wail the season that has fled. 

XXXI. 

Were I disposed a moral to indite, 
Here most unquestionably is its place : 

Don't wait repentance until appetite 

No more has power its progress to retrace ; 

Complete worn-outness surely's not the plight 
To give repentance much, if any, grace. 

'Twas no great merit in old Uncle Ned 

Corn-cakes to eschew with his teeth all shed. 



136 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 



He walked and pondered, with his brow erect, 
Devising in his mind which way to turn 

To gain the point his fancy did affect, 

Convinced, indeed, that he had much to learn 

Before he saw the beacon-lights reflect, 

That on the coast of pure enjoyment burn, 

When, lost in reverie, his reason fled, 

He found himself down cellar — ;on his head. 

XXXIII. 

A cellar doorway, though a fearful trap. 

Affords a cautionary moral, clear, 
To every visionary, dreamy chap, 

Impelled by contemplation high or beer, 
To heed his steps, lest they may chance, mayhap. 

To lead him, witless, into trouble drear. 
Although 'tis well uplifted gaze to show, 
We should have half an eye for things below. 



And the good doctor lay a moment thus, 

Not knowing how or why he should be there. 

The world all muddled in a precious muss, 
Concerning which he didn't know nor care ; 

And then he rose, and said, " Ridiculous ! " 
Running his fingers through his matted hair. 

In which confused and much-mixed-up condition, 

He felt just fit to be a politician. 



TPIE MODERN SYNTAX. 137 

XXXV. 

In politics the doctor took a stand, 

And blurted with an unremitting zeal, 
Retailing dogmas up and down the land, 

Professing earnestly the public weal ; 
Condemning all who, on the other hand, 

Chanced differently regarding them to feel, 
And was a cog-wheel active as could be 
In the great whirl of party enginery. 

XXXVI. 

As legislator, in the town and state. 

Across the stage with giant steps he strode ; 

His was the dictum on which hung the fate 
Of mighty hobbies that the lobby rode ; 

Se took no bribes his act to compensate. 

And voted as the " greatest good " was showed j 

Rich only in the sense of duty done. 

And — certain gifts his self-denial won. 

XXXVII. 

Strange fancy his who seeks in politics 

For happiness ; as well might he essay 
To honey find in husks, or oil in bricks. 

Or new potatoes in New England May ; 
His chiefest recompense the meed of kicks 

Constituents ungrateful always pay. 
And find he's purchased, when it is too late, 
A tiny whistle at a monstrous rate. 



138 PARTIKGTONIAN PATCHWOKK. 

XXXVIII. 

Sure delectation must be found in Fame, 

As Solomon had said 'twas more than riches ; 

And so his sail he spread to catch a name, 

Courting each breeze to draw and test its stitches ; 

His name appeared, with eulogy aflame, 

And all the slabber that the vain bewitches ; 

Besides, his face graced each pictorial journal, 

With praise or blame allied — alike infernal. 

XXXIX. 

He talked his mouth for fame in every place, 
Was always found, wherever wished or not ; 

From a street-corner speech to saying grace 
He rose to the occasion piping hot ; 

Sometimes a slap he'd welcome in the face. 
And a nose-pulling now and then he got; 

But all such favors helloed his little game 

To win the "glittering height" on which was fame. 

XL. 

His head grew dizzy on his lofty perch, 
— His reputation mere factitious show, — 

And, like a weather-rvane upon a church. 

He turned just as the fickle wind might blow. 

Till counter breezes gave a sudden lurch, 

And down he came 'mong common folks below, 

The ridicule of every humble eye — 

The golden cynosure but gilt, brought nigh. 



THE MODERN SYNTAX. 139 

XLI. 

For fame he'd sacrificed all thoughts of peace ; 

Had found antagonism everywhere ; 
Had lied and swore his chances to increase; 

Had tried philanthropy, and wore long hair ; 
For every wheel he had the needed grease ; 

In every public movement had a share ; 
Denied himself all comfort for a name; 
"And this," said he, " is all there is of fame." 



In wit's display he next great effort made, 

And searched the dictionary through for puns, 

While such extreme abandon he displayed. 

His jokes popped off as though they had been guns; 

Grave people all around him were afraid, 
And 'gainst his influence bewared their sons. 

Bidding them think their sires ne'er acted thus, 

And calling him " disreputable cus- 

XLin. 

Tomer" which softens some the verbal force — 
Like the old clergyman of whom they tell, 

Who, vainly trying to secure his horse, 
By his momentum in the brambles fell ; 

And, angered thereat, made the matter worse 
By shouting out vehemently, " O hell ! " 

But seeing in an instant his offence, 

" Lelujah " added, which quite changed the sense. 



140 PAHTINGTONTAN PATCHWORK. 

XLIV. 

The doctor made a laugh where'er he went — 
He had no scruple thus to serve them so ; 

Even a funeral scene could not prevent, 
And where an undertaker had to go, 

His mates such unction to the season lent, 

He said, " What ''sjyrit de corpse these folks do show ! " 

'Twas villanous, but those the rue that quaffed 

Looked through their sables and at Spooner laughed. 

XLV. 

The Lecture Bureaus then must have him out, 
And curious people came from far and near. 

With buttons sewed on more than extra stout, 
Fearing to burst them with the fan they'd hear; 

He heard, one side, the injudicious shout. 

But something like a groan filled t'other ear ; 

Snowed in and criticised, self-reproved and Aveary, 

He felt, as did admiring friends, 'twas dreary. 

XL VI. 

And next in Fashion's walks the doctor pressed, 
And clothed himself in most api^roved attire, 

With brainless glorying at being dressed 
Up to the standard that the modes require ; 

From hat to boots resplendent as the best, 
With but to shine the limit of desire; 

And every one inferred, who chose to scan. 

That Dr. Spooner was a " killing man " ! 



THE MODERN SYNTAX. 141 

XLVII. 

But then the thought upon his senses stole, 

" Whtit am I but an ape ? — though not so mean 

Is mine as Darwin says was man's first role 
Before the footlights of this earthly scene, — 

The copy but of others, with a soul 

That grasps infinitude — too grand, I ween, 

To spend its foculties in such base use 

As hatching goslings from a tailor's goose." 

XLVIII. 

" This, then, is evident," he further mused, 
" That delectation does not come to those 

Who spend their strength in attributes abused, 
Or ripen into gorgeousness of clo'es ; 

Neither to those with qualities unused. 
Who dawdle, to day's dying, in a doze ; 

But unto those who try, by work or wit, 

The world's great family to benefit." 

XLIX. 

In gentle recreation did he strive. 

Attending all the small fetes that were going; 
Was great at fairs, where ladies so contrive 

To keep the cream of human kindness flowing; 
Tried summer picnics with their glee alive, 

That such a wealth of promises where showing ; 
Joined social clubs and literary coteries. 
And took a stand high up 'mong Pleasure's votaries 



142 PARTINGTONIAK PATCHWORK. 

L. 

Thin dissipations, such as these, at best, 
Gave Httle recompense to his ambition ; 

He seaward turned, and on the ocean's breast 
He thought he saw his ardent hope's fruition ; 

He sang sea-songs, and " Heave ho'd " with the rest, 
But found the sea unsteady in position ; 

He didn't rehsh his first evening's supi3er. 

And closed his " Heave ho's " in the leeward scupper. 

LI. 

He murmured faintly, " Please set me on shore ; 

I love the grand and ever-restless ocean. 
But I believe that I can love it more 

On terra Jir ma, where, unfelt its motion, 
I can dehght to hear its mighty roar. 

And throw myself with rapturous devotion ; 
But here, alas ! the power that rules the sea 
Rules it too crookedly by far for me. 

LII. 

Then Dr. Spooner ventured into trade. 

And learned to buy and sell with ready art ; 

He many paying operations made, 

And got the trick of traffic all by heart ; — 

So shrewd was he in action he displayed. 
He won the fame of being " devilish smart," 

Which means — well, anything respectable — 

But found that trade was far from the delectable. 



THE MODERN SYNTAX. 143 

LIII. 

It would have done you good to hear him lie — 
Or froze your blood — just as you felt inclined; 

He'd swear that black was white a trade to tie, 
And all so plausible, that caution, blind. 

Took stock at once, without a how? or why? 
Such marvellous integrity to find ; 

And then he slapped his pockets, well content 

That he had made a mighty big per cent. 

LIV. 

" Mercantile shrewdness," thoiigh it fleece and skin, 
Is ne'er dishonest by the rules of trade. 

And those who deepest j^lunge and largest win 
Sleep lightest on the bargains they have made ; 

Conscience to such makes no unpleasant din. 
And, at the future not one whit dismayed. 

They " will " their wealth with most complacent air, 

And lay them down the just's reward to share. 



To Education then the doctor flew. 

The very field for hapjjiness, he thought; 

The total that he guessed, and what he knew, 
Were into active requisition brought ; 

He went to all Conventions with a gout 
That was a substitute for what he sought. 

And, being quite a favorite in tlie city, 

They made him member of the School Committee. 



144 PAETINGTOKEAN PATCHWOBK. 

LVI. 

Then j^leasure turned to business — early, late, 
His door-bell rang with clamorous appeal, 

Permits to grant, parental doubts to bate. 
Teachers to hear, vexatious feuds to heal, 

New books to choose, the salaries to rate, 
The pangs of interrupted peace to feel, 

The public growling in its discontent, 

And watching, lynx-eyed, each invested cent. 

Lvn. 

With not a chance to steal, and snubbed and bored, 

His privacy invaded as a right ; 
His motives"doubted and his claim ignored, 

His life a constant, ignominious fight ; 
The slave of school-book agencies, that poured 

Their arguments so thick, that, vanquished quite, 
He vowed no more his soul with such to vex, 
Then " handed in " his thin ofiicial " checks." 



The doctor next dipped fiercely into morals. 

Went regularly every morn to prayer; 
Mixed earnestly in theologic quarrels. 

Where men for truth's sake pulled each other's hair : 
Had for all ill the formulaic abhorrals, — 

Two words, I think, you'll not find anywhere, — 
Struck for hair-s] fitting dogmas left and right, 
And deemed that he was "fighting the good fight." 



THE MODERN SYNTAX. 145 

LIX. 

He drew his skirts aside when others passed 

Of different belief from that he held; 
He fanned dissension with persistent blast, 

And with a Pharisaic rapture swelled; 
He'd gained perfection in belief at last, 

And, from his lofty perch, all else beheld 
In darkness lost — salvation's chances slim — 
But he was safe, and what were they to him ? 

LX, 

Small delectation could he find herein. 
And worry of contention grayed his hair ; 

He'd searched in every other one for sin, 

And looked within to find it rampant there ; 

He'd thought through self-perfection bliss to win, 
But saw its fallacy in half-despair, 

And then backed out, not finding what he'd fain, 

Placing his baggage on some other train. 

LXI. 

He'd be a Mason : surely he could find 

Within those ancient halls the thing he sought; 

It seemed delightful to his ardent mind 

That happiness, like onions, could be bought ; 

And so he acted as he felt inclined, 

And soon was to the ancient gridiron brought, 

Seeking for blissfulness one seldom sees. 

As lawyers get to heaven, by degrees. 
10 



146 PAETINGTOISnAN PATCHWOKK. 

LXII. 

He spread himself on mystic pins and seals, 
And knew more signs than doth the Zodiac; 

Was letter-perfect in the springs and wheels 
Of night-trains running the mysterious track ; 

Took every step the Order's scope reveals, 
Until, from the "inefiable" looking back, 

He wept, like what's his name, who lived of yore, 

Because he couldn't master something: more. 



Then Dr. Spoouer took to rural shades. 
And dressed himself in most unique attire, 

A costume something like the knave of spades, 
As odd as piscator could e'er desire ; 

And then he followed brooks through grassy glades 
To catch the trouts that epicures admire; 

But ne'er could he by any subtle crook 

Induce the fry to bite his baitless hook. 

LXIV. 

He sought dim nooks by water's babbling streams. 
He breathed the sweet "balm of a thousand flowers," 

He laid him on the emerald sward for dreams. 
He hid himself within the woods' deep bowers. 

He revelled in the morning's opening beams. 

He dawdled through the sultry evening hours — 

Poisoned by dogwood, bit by bugs and flies. 

He fled from happiness 'neath rural skies. 



THE MODERN SYNTAX. 147 



LXV. 



And then despairingly lie made complaint : 
" O, who can tell me where is happiness ? 

With much endeavor I am worn and faint, 

And each step seems to show the progress less 

In striving for that boon which hope did paint, 
Which seems more distant as my steps I press. 

Tell me, ye wise ones, in earth's mighty bound, 

Where, tell me where, may happiness be found ? " 

LXVI. 

" Here stay your steps, my boy," a veteran spoke ; 

" I'm just the chap '11 point you to the spot ; 
I've sought for happiness through fire and smoke — 

My brierwood pipe — and here is where I've got : 
The search for happiness is but a joke, 

For which you needn't go all round the lot ; 
I'll ease your caput of its great quandary — 
For delectation — see the dictionary." 

LXVII. 

Then laughed aloud that execrable hind, 

While Dr. Spoouer turned in strong disgust. 

But as be thought of it, he felt inclined 

To think the rough man's ribaldry was just; 

For to himself he said, '*I nowhere find 
The delectation of my hope and trust 

But in the book ; and therefore I will wait, 

And let things happen — as it ])leases fate. 



148 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

LXYIII. 

And then he took things as they came about, 
Nor strove from fate his happiness to wring; 

At unpropititioiis luck he made no rout, 

But was serene as when joy's birds did sing, 

And in contentedness of purpose stout, 

He found himself as "happy as a king," — 

Feeling true delectation did not rest 

On anything outside the seeker's breast. 

Note. — The author read the foregoing to a young and charming 
critic, who had just completed the ecstatic story of " The Bloody 
Hand, or the Avenger of Darrville ; " and she immediately suggested 
that if Dr. Spooner had found some amiable being worthy of his 
choice — as in the instance of which she had just read, — he would 
undoubtedly have found the happiness he sought. It seemed to 
her that he had thrown away a great deal of valuable time. 



ORACULAR PEARLS. 



BY MRS. P. 



149 



STRIPPINGS. 



I. 



After the great tlinnder-storm that shook thuigs up so, 
a neighbor came in with her face clothed in wonder. She 
sank into a seat, fanning herself; and after recovering her 
breath, which threatened to leave her, she said, — 

" Well, Mrs. Partington, did you ever ? " 

Mrs. P. looked at her as if wondering whether she ever 
did or not, but waited further development. 

" Don't you think," the visitor continued, " that our neigh- 
bor Goggles was struck down by the lightning, and was car- 
ried into his house in an incomprehensible condition ! " 

« Indeed ! was he ?" said Mrs. P. 

"Yes; he was stan'ding in a doorway, when the light- 
ning came down, throwing him to the ground ; and he swal- 
lowed a pint of the fluid, they think." 

"You don't say so!" ejaculated the dame, notwithstand- 
ing the neighbor had just said so, and made a sort of men- 
tal calculation wh.ile tapping her snuff-box reflectively. 
"A pint! " she said, at length ; " w^ell, it must have been 
stronger than any fluid they have round here, for a pint 
of no other kind could ever have served him so. It shows 
what a difierence there is betwixt Jersey lightning and the 
real article, and should be a warning to him as long as he 
lives." 

151 



152 PAIiTINGTONLAJSr PATCHWORK. 

They talked it over between them, with an accompani- 
ment by Ike on a sheet of zinc, in attempted imitation of 
the thunder. 

II. 

" Political canvass ! " said Mrs. Partington, as she read 
the accounts, in the papers, of party engineering in num- 
bering the cLans. " What can they be going to do with it, 
I wonder ? " 

"I know," cried Ike, looking up from the floor wdiere he 
was framing a kite with two of her best curtain sticks. 

"What?" she asked. 

" They are going to canvass the state with it," he rej^lied. 

" That may do very well for hams," said she ; " but for 
the state, 'twould be ridiculous. I wonder now if these 
breaches of political faith that we see advertised in print, 
are not made out of it ; and it must be jDOor stuff, that 
gives way so easy. If it is cheaper than satanet, it may 
do for the straightened Democrats, poor creaturs, who 
have so little to bless themselves with." 

"Political canvass," said the schoolmaster, who had come 
in and heard, unperceived, the most of her soliloquy, " is 
simply the count of political noses, in trying to find out 
how many are going to vote for certain parties." 

"Ah! thank you," said she, as she sniffed up a few titil- 
lating grains of fragrant rappee ; "is that it? Well, peo- 
ple use such strange terms that it is haid to imderstand, 
sometimes. But it is just as well, perhaps ; at any rate, a 
mistake is no haystack, as Paul used to say, which is un- 
fortunate with hay at forty dollars a ton." 



ORACULAR PEARLS. 153 



III. 

"If any one understands the anathema of a turkey, they 
can desecrate it better," said Mrs. Partington, as she stood, 
carving-knife in hand, endeavoring to make her way through 
the bones and muscles of a veteran of the gobbler species. 
The connections would not sever, and in vain the guests 
waited. 

" I think anathema would do some good," responded 
Dr. Spooner, smilingly ; " at any rate, I think I should 
try it," 

" Dear me ! " she continued, still persevering in her 
efforts; "did anybody ever see such a provoking thing? 
The butcher said it would be a good, serviceable bird, and 
I declare it is as tough as a blacksmith's apron. I wish 
everybody had it." 

" And yet," said Old Roger, " although it is so tough, 
there is, I should judge, considerable tendonness about it," 
winking at the company. 

"It may be," replied she, "in further than I have got; 
but the elementary apparatuses that can disgest this must 
be like that of the oyster of the desert, that they say can 
eat nails and such things with the greatest felicity." 

The afternoon was devoted to riving the turkey, but Ike 
made it up in the small matters. 



154 PAETINGTONlAJSr PATCHWOEK. 



lY. 

Ike rushed in one day, with his eyes opened to their 
widest, and threw his cap into a pan of custard pudding 
that Mrs. Partington had just prepared for baking. 

" Do be careful, dear ! " said Mrs. P., extricating the cap, 
and shaking oif the accruing matter. " There's your new 
cap, now, completely satiated with custard ! " 

" I Avish I could be," muttered the boy. Then he broke 
out with, " O, Pve seen such a sight ! I just saw a woman 
go by here with more'n fifty pounds of hair on her head!" 

" Don't say that," replied Mi's. P., severely ; " that is a 
falsehood, which isn't any better than lying; and though 
some say such things with impurity, I cannot allow it. I 
know the chinyons and the waterfowls are large enough, 
but fifty pounds is impossible. You should not say so, be- 
cause you remember how Hannah Nyas and Sophia were 
struck dead for lying; and, though very few have suffered 
so sence, it isn't because they don't deserve it, mercy 
knows, but because there's so many of 'em that there 
wouldn't be any left." 

" It isn't a lie, neither," said Ike. " She did have fifty 
pounds of hair on her head." 

Mrs. Partington turned on him the burning disk of her 
large round spectacles. There was a concentration of re- 
buke in the look she gave. Her finger was raised like the 
note of wonder. 

" Tins is original sin, total deijravity, and close com- 
munion all together," said she, with a tone of horror. 

" I did see it," he repeated. " 'Twas a woman who had 
been picking hair, and was carrying it home in a bag on 
her head." 

She smiled forgiveness, and the custards were a success. 



ORACULAR PEARLS. 155 



V. 

" What a label it is upon the character of Boston ! " said 
Mrs. Partington, as she read a speech on the liquor bill 
that reflected on Boston. " There is no place where be- 
nevolence is so aperient as here. For my part I don't 
know where so much is done for the suffering, — and any- 
body can see it that can read, — for how often we see ' free 
lunch' in the windows of our humane institutions! You 
never see sich things in the country, as much better as 
they think themselves." 

Mrs. Partington paused, looking over the top of the pa- 
per at the country member, as though she were resting her 
gaze there preparatory to making another shot, while Ike 
sat on the floor, lathering the cat with raw custard. 



VI. 

" I HAVE never liked Prussia," said Mrs. Partington, 
" since a peddler swingled me in selling me some blue clay 
for Prussian blue ; and as for the war, I have no doubt 
that General Benzine will take spots out of 'em, to say 
nothing of General Troches, who will undoubtedly realize 
all the expectorations of the French people." 

The old lady carried the matter no further, except to 
deprecate the war that was so destructive to life and pa- 
tience in trying to make out the reports, while Ike was 
taking French and Prussian towns, made of the house- 
hold effects, alternately, upon the floor. 



156 PAETLNGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 



VII. 

" Are you in favor of the prohibitive law, or the license 
law ? " asked her opposite neighbor of the relict of P. P., 
corporal of the " Bloody 'Leventh." 

She carefully weighed the question, as though she were 
selling snuff, and answered, — 

" Sometimes I think I am, and then again I think I am 
not." 

Her neighbor was jierj^lexed, and repeated the question, 
varying it a little. 

" Have you seen the ' JMrs. Partington Twilight Soap ' ? " 
she asked. 

" Yes," was the reply ; " everybody has seen that ; but 
why?" 

" Because," said the dame, " it has two sides to it, and it 
is hard to choose between 'em. Now, here are my two 
neighbors, contagious to me on both sides — one goes for 
probation, t'other for licentiousness ; and I think the best 
thing for me is to keep nuisance." 

She meant neutral, of course. The neighbor admired, 
and smiled, while Ike lay on the floor, with his legs in the 
air, trying to balance Mrs. Partington's fancy waiter on 
his toe. 

VIII. 

" The mortification of the nincom tax," said Mrs. Par- 
tington, as she heard Ike read that it was to be modified, 
her countenance revealing in its expression the depths 
that lay below, " is just what people are complaining about, 
and gracious knows it is bad enough without makini^ it 
more mortifying ; for a good many nincoms can't stand it, 



ORACULAR PEARLS. 157 

and so get exemptied, and don't have anything at all when 
the tax impostures come round, which is very mortifying, 
vindoubtedly, to tliem, Avhere they Avould like to swell the 
government coifiures, as good loyal citizens. But I de- 
clare, though I don't hold any mosity against the ones who 
tax, — because, like punishment, it is for our good, — it 
does seem hard to tax a widow's might to raise enough to 
pay a nincom on tliree dollars, which is about as much 
mortification as an assessor can cause, and I should like to 
tell 'em so." 

" But," said Ike, thrusting in his oar, which, like a crow- 
bar among cog-wheels, caused the machine to come to a 
sudden stand-still, " this isn't a mortification at all ; 'tis a 
modification — m, o, d, mod." 

" No matter, dear, however it may be spelt," said she, 
pausing a moment to balance her answer, like a javelin, 
before hurling it, " nor what it may mean ; it is the same 
old imposition, any way, and all are nincoms if they don't 
complain about it." 

She ran down here, like a jolly old clock, while Ike em- 
ployed himself by filling the sails of an improvised boat 
in the milk-pan with the bellows. 



IX. 

Christmas Ike was made the happy possessor of a fid- 
dle, which he found in the mornina: near his stockinsf. 

" Has he got a musical bent ? " Banfield asked, of whom 
Mrs. Partington was buying the instrument. 

"Bent, indeed! " said she; " no, he's as straight as an 
error." 

He explained by repeating the question regarding his 
musical inclination. 



158 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

" Yes," she replied ; " he's dreadfully inclined to music 
since he had a drum, and I want the fiddle to see if I can't 
make another Pickaninny or an Old Bull of him. Jews- 
harps is simple, though I can't see how King David played 
on one of 'era, and sung his psalms at the same time ; but 
the fiddle is best, because genius can show itself plainer on 
it without much noise. Some prefers a violeen ; but I 
don't know." 

The fiddle was well improved, till the horsehair all pulled 
out of the bow, and it was then twisted up into a fish-line. 



" Your neighbor Kloots has grown quite obese," said 
the schoolmaster to Mrs. Partington, as they sat by the 
window. 

Mrs. Partington greatly deprecated any ill remark about 
any one, and she heard the observation in silence, until the 
schoolmaster continued, — 

" Don't you think so ? " 

" Why, as to his being a beast," replied she, " I am not 
willing to say, though some say he is very glutinous in his 
habits, and sometimes is indicted to steamiousness ; but 
there is nothing harmonious about him that I know of; so 
I should be loath to call him so. The least we say is soon- 
est mended, and none of us are any better than we ought 
to be, with corruj^tion without and temptation within, and 
the Lord knows what, to disturb our equal Abraham, and 
bring us down all of a sudden, as Mr. Buss cut his leg — " 

" I meant fat — obese — fat, madam," said the school- 
master. 

" Well," she replied, " perhaps be is, which you might 
liave said so at first; but that has no weight against his 



OEACULAE PEARLS. 159 

character, that I know of, if he came honestly by it, which 
is none of my bnsiness." 

The rebuke was well received, and Ike, who had lis- 
tened attentively, drew with charcoal the picture of a fat 
man on the white closet door. 



XL 

" Our Indian Relations ! " said Mrs. Partington, as she 
read such telegraphic head in her paper ; " well, I wonder 
what they will trump up next ! Our Indian relations, in- 
deed ! for my part I never shall allow that they are rela- 
tions of mine, the red-skinned vagabones. I know they 
are apt to call the president their Great Father, which is a 
scandal and a shame, I dare say ; but that is no reason 
why we should be called their relations, of which we 
have enough ah-eady that are white, though some are 
not so respectable that we can brag much about 'em. It 
is constitutional and proper to take the black man as a 
brother, and give him the right of suffering with the rest 
of us ; he isn't so bad in anything but color, and useful in a 
window-washing point of view ; but these red skins as re- 
lations ! It makes my blood boil to think of it." She 
fanned herself vigorously with a long-handled dipper, as 
Ike took up the paper, which had flillen on the floor. " It 
don't mean relations," said he, " that come to see you and 
stay till you get tired of 'em. 'Tis only the way things 
stand betwixt Indians and the government." "Is that 
all ? " she said, smilingly ; " well, I wish the papers would 
be a little more obscure in stating a thing. Ike went out 
impressed with the importance of knowing a great deal, and 
lost all his marbles at "in the ring " before he came in. 



160 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 



XII. 

It was suffarested in the Boston Medical Journal that 
May-day be observed on the fifteenth instead of the first 
of the month, on account of the coldness of the latter in 
our latitude, and tlie danger to the children, who will 
parade, weather or no. " Bless their little hearts ! " said 
Mrs. Partington, meaning the children to whom the para- 
graph referred ; " it is a spettacle to see their arms blue as 
gold fishes, with chaplains of paper roses round their 
heads, and their noses as red — the Httle dears — as lob- 
ster sallet. I do hope they will differ it, I'm shore, for I 
always said May liad got turned hind part afore, or that 
there was something wrong about it, I couldn't tell which, 
and I am glad folks are becoming conscientious of the fact. 
Putting it in the middle of the month, 'twon't make no 
difference which end comes first, and it will be such a 
relief to the poor children who go out to pick violence and 
roses on the first of May, and get brown critters in their 
throats and newrology in their limbs. To say nothing of 
the young people Avho ride on horseback, like turtle doves, 
out of town to breakfast, and take cold and die early and 
often, and — " 

" "Where's my marbles ? " said Ike, pulling out a drawer 
and throwing the contents in a chair. 

"Don't be so hasty," said she, interrupted in her May- 
day refiections as a stream may be by an invidious fall of 
eaith, and she hastened to preserve order and find the 
alleys, but there were none ; and he went to bed to dream 
of a five-cent investment in twozers next morning. The 
thread of May-day was broken, and Mrs. Partington 
subsided into her knitting. 



OKACTJLAR PEARLS. 161 



XIII. 



"What is the matter ?" said Mrs. Partington, as she 
passed by the corner of Hamilton Place on the morning 
the tickets were sold to Mr. Dickens's readings ; " what is 
the possession forming for ? " 

There was a human lining to the whole of Hamilton 
Place, and she had taken it for a procession. 

"Dickens," was the reply. 

" The Dickens it is ! " she replied, contemplatively ; " and 
right opposite the Park Street Church, too, where the truth is 
dispensed with every Sunday ; and goodness knows there's 
no use to run after the Dickens, when he is always so 
ready to come at any one's beck and call. But things 
have changed, to be sure, and a good coat covers up the 
original sin of tail, and the cloven foot is not visible in 
No. 8 boots." 

" Tills isn't the old fellow," said a struggler ; " this is a 
horse of quite another color, metn." 

" I don't care what sort of a color he is," replied she, 
" though the original black was respectable ; and they do say 
he keeps it up in some societies where it is necessary to 
jDreserve appearance, and touches the young ladies' white 
shoulders with a hand as soft as velvet ; but I don't know. 
At least he's bad enough in whatever dress he comes, or 
no dress, for that matter; and Heaven knows we must 
watch him who goes about seeking whom he may devour 
somebody." 

" He means Charles Dickens," said Dr. Spooner, who 
was by her side, " the writer who — " He proceeded 
with a long panegyric, wliich it is needless to repeat, to 
which she resi^onded with a long " O ! " like a distended 
hoop, as if it were a relief at being extricated from her 
11 



162 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

dilemma, while the crowd moved on to get their tickets. 
Ike was making motions to all of the cars to stop, and 
more than twenty drivers shook their whips at him. 



XIV. 

" Dear me ! " said Mrs. Partington, as she swept three 
tea-cups from the table in an herculean eifort to annihilate 
a fly that was buzzing round her head. " Dear me ! I 
don't see what they Avere made for. Sich an annoyance to 
one, to say nothing of the pieces ! and goodness knows if 
my life isn't tormented out of me by 'em, getting into the 
molasses jug, and covering everything with perfect impu- 
rity, for we can't help ourselves, and taking sich freedom 
with us that they go into our mouths and noses, which is 
not pleasant, though when mixed with huckleberries it 
doesn't make much difference in cuke. It does seem to 
me a great waste of time and material to make 'em." 

" But^" said Dr. Spooner, " flies were not made in vain. 
They are undoubtedly a species of humble scavenger, tak- 
ing up the ofial, as it were, in the atmosphere, that but for 
them might induce disease," 

" That may be so," replied she, calmly. " I don't want to 
find no foult with Providence ; but they are awful troubles, 
if that's what you mean ; and as for the disease, I'll risk it 
without 'em." 

Thei-e was determination in her eye, and a wet tOAvel in 
her hand as she said this, and every observing fly would 
have made himself scarce at once ; but many that niglit 
failed to answer at roll call. Ike puzzled Dr. Spooner by 
asking him \i tempus fugit didn't mean fly time. 



ORACULAR PEARLS. 163 



XV. 

" Have you got any consecrated lye ?" asked Mrs. Par- 
tington of the druggist, during anniversary season. "No," 
replied he, winking at his chief clerk, " but you can get it 
anywheres round here all this week." "Indeed!" she 
continued ; " is it so common as that? I thought only the 
pothecaries had it. But no matter. I dare say it isn't any 
better than the old kind, for a lye is a lye, any way, 
whether 'tis consecx'ated or not ; for the purification is 
what is wanted, and a lye well stuck to will be jest as well, 
if the clothes is clean ; that's what's looked at, and the 
lye isn't thought of. I dare say you haven't got any dese- 
crated cod-fish, either? You haven't? I thought so, 
though some ain't so particular. They'll desecrate anything 
for money ; and what else can you expeA when everybody 
seems to be coveting his neighbor's goods ? and Heaven 
knows where it will end, with beefsteak forty cents a 
pound, which John Rogers himself couldn't have stood. 
Why, Isaac ! " The remark was caused by Ike, who 
stood practising hydrostatics by douching the flies on the 
wall with a new syringe. 

XVI. 

" How limpid you walk ! " said a voice behind us, as we 
were making a hundred and fifty horse-power effort to 
reach a table whereon reposed a volume of Bacon. " What 
is the cause of your lameness?" It was Mrs. Partington's 
voice that spoke, and Mrs. Partington's eyes that met the 
glance we returned over our left shoulder. " Gout," said 
we, briefly, almost surlily. "Dear me," said she; "you are 
highly flavored ! It was only rich people and epicacs in 



164 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

living that had the gout in olden times." " Ah ! " we 
growled, partly in response, and partly with an infernal 
twinge. " Poor soul I " she continued, with commiseration, 
like an anodyne, in the tones of her voice ; " the best rem- 
edy I know for it is an embarkation of Roman wormwood 
and lobelia for the part infected, though some say a cran- 
berry poultice is best ; but I believe the cranberries is for 
erisipilis, and whether either of 'em is a rostrum for the 
gout or not, I really don't know. If it was a fraction of 
the arm, I could jest know what to subscribe." We looked 
into her eye with a determination to say something severely 
bitter, because we felt allopathic just then ; but the kind 
and sympathizing look that met our own disarmed sever- 
ity, and sinking into a seat with our coveted Bacon, we 
thanked her. It was very evident, all the while that she, 
or they, staid, that Ike was seeing how near he could 
come to our lame member, and not touch it. He did touch 
it sometimes, but those didn't count. 



XVII. 

" For pity's sakes, what are you doin' ? " said Mrs. Par- 
tington, as Ike came in, and threw himself forward on his 
hands, elevating his heels in the air, and falling against 
the clean buffet in the corner, his gravelly shoes endanger- 
ing the ancient china ; " what is the meaning of this ? Are 
your brains so decomposed that you have forgot the end 
you should keep uppermost ? " 

Ike recovered, and simply said he Avas trying a little 
gymnastic exercise. 

" I should think it was nasty exercise," said she, wiping 
the dirt from the buffet with her apron; "but you should 
be keerful. Only think of conjecture of the brain, and see 




A LITTLE GYMNASTIC EXERCISE. -Pa-e 164. 



ORACULAR PEARLS. 165 

how many men kill themselves dmnng operation of mind, 
and let it be a warning to you. Besides, it isn't pretty nor 
proper. What should you think of my turning heels over 
head, now, and cutting up antiques like a circuit rider?" 

" Bully ! " shouted Ike, clapping his hands ; "jest try 
it ; you can't do it, I bet." 

" I shan't, you disgraceless boy ! " said she, blushing to 
the roots of her cap ; " and if I see you trying any more 
of your nasty tricks, my shoe shall teach you which end 
belongs up." 

She looked at him severely, as if she meant it, and the 
boy went out, appearing as if he were regretting she didn't 
ti'y the experiment, kicking over the dust barrel on the 
sidewalk in his effort to jump over it. 



XVI. 

" It is roominous enough iii here," said Mrs. Partington, 
as she hung her bandbox and umbrella upon the side of 
the car on the Eastern Railroad, and took her seat. "I 
declare, I am very lucky to get so good a seat, when the 
cars are so crowded by execrationists going to the moun- 
tains or the sea-shore. It is quite ill-convenient to travel 
at such times ; but with an agreeable company, and a nice 
car like this, it is very pleasant." 

" This is not an ice car, madam," replied the gentleman 
to whom she addressed her remark. 

" Well, I must say that tobacco smoke is not so nice as 
it might be, and I don't think people behave themselves 
altogether so well as they might who smoke where there 
is ladies ; but we must take folks as we find 'em." 

" Have a cigar, madam ? " said her acquaintance. 

" No, thank you," she replied, astonished at his audacity, 
as she saw hitn rub a match, and light his weed. 



166 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOKK. 

" Go it alone ! " said a voice behind hei-. 

" Yes," said she, " I'm alone," thinking herself addressed. 

She looked round to see a game of euchre progressing. 
As Batchelder, the conductor, entered, he saw the black 
bonnet and the kind eyes, and whispered in her ear, " You 
are in the smoking-car ; " whereupon she went out, and 
found her sj)here in the next car. 



XVII. 

Mrs. Pabtington, speaking of the over-activity of Ike 
in mischief, says it proceeds " from the axis of fidelity in 
his system." Heaven bless the boy, then, Mrs. P., and if 
he has excess of " fidelity " in his system, do not try to 
reduce it ; for there are so few who are troubled with fidel- 
ity in any form tliat one so gifted is a rara avis. She 
meant " excess of vitality." Her rhetoric is far ahead of 
her grammar. 

XVIII. 

"Arranged for selling liquor!" said Mrs. Partington, 
the mornino; after the arraignment in court of the dealers 
for sentence. " That's the place for doing things right, 
and I have always noticed that everybody there is ar- 
ranged for what he does. How many there are arranged 
for drunkenness, with large swallows, I suppose, every 
Monday in the court ; and goodness knows where they get 
their liquor, unless they are arranged for that, too, or 
somebody arranges it for 'em, which is impossible, be- 
cause nobody has any to sell, I know, for I wanted some 
gin to put into camphire for a vortex in my head, and the 
stationary agent wanted my name, and where I was born. 



ORACULAK PEARLS. 167 

and the color of my grandmother's eyes, and I couldn't 
tell him, and so he wouldn't let me have it; and there is 
sich doings ! I suppose I am arranged to go without, and 
I guess I can," 

She looked rigidly at the profile of the corporal of the 
Bloody 'Leventh that hung upon the wall, and thought of 
the sacrifices he had made to secure liberty, — rum in- 
cluded, — and she rammed a pinch of snuflf home like a 
cartridge, while Ike, taking a broomstick, charged upon 
the stove-pipe with a sj)ite that brought it down, and re- 
stored Mrs. Partington to her consciousness, who pursued 
the boy with her shoe as he darted out of the door. 



XIX. 

" What a large fiimily of daughters he must have ! " 
said Mrs. Partington, as she read in the papers an account 
of a marriage at the residence of the bride's father. " I 
never read a paper that I don't see one of his daughters is 
married at the old gentleman's house. I'm shore I hope 
tliey may turn out well, for, though it is very desiroiis that 
so many girls should be married off, and become the heads 
of families, if Heaven should so order it, though it doesn't 
seem to nowadays, yet it is very essensual that they should 
be well to do, too, and have something to begin life with. 
There is a perfect manammonia among girls to get mar- 
ried ; but they marry in haste to repent at leisure, and 
Heaven knows what an end may be that begins so badly! 
I hope the bride's father may have done his duty by pos- 
terity, as well as he has for it, — and Solomon himself 
couldn't have done more, — for half that marry nowadays 
are no more fit for it than they are for preachers, and, in- 
stead of being helpmeets to tlieir husbands, they are more 



168 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

likely to help j^art, sometimes before the honeymoon is 
over. May Heaven bless us all, for we are none of us bet- 
ter than we ought to be, by a great deal." 

Ike sat witli a long string, and a piece of meat attached, 
angling for the cat. 

XX. 

" I've always noticed," said Mrs. Partington on New 
Year's Day, dropping her voice to the key that people 
adopt when they are disposed to be philosophical or moral ; 
" I've always noticed that every year added to a man's life 
is apt to make him older, just as a man who goes a journey 
finds, as he jogs on, that every mile he goes brings him 
nearer where he is going, and farther from where he start- 
ed. I am not so young as I was once, and I don't believe 
I shall ever be, if I live to the age of Samson, which, 
Heaven knows as well as I do, I don't want to, for I 
wouldn't be a centurian or an octagon, and survive my fac- 
tories, and become idiomatic, by any means. But then 
there is no knowing how a thing will turn out till it takes 
place; and we shall come to an end some day, though we 
may never live to see it." 

There was a smart tap on the looking-glass that hung 
upon the wall, followed instantly by another. 

" Gracious ! " said she ; " what's that ? I hope the glass 
isn't fractioned, for it is a sure sign of calamity, and mercy 
knows they come along full fast enough without helping 
'em by breaking looking-glasses." 

There was another tap, and she caught sight of a white 
bean that fell on the floor ; and there, reflected in the 
glass, was the fice of Ike, who was blowing beans at the 
mirror through a crack iu the door. 



OKACULAE PEAELS. 169 



XXI. ' 

"As for the Chinese question," said Mrs. Partington, re- 
flectively, holding her spoon at present, while the vapor of 
her cup of tea curled about her face, which shone through 
it like the moon through a mist, " it is a great pity that 
somebody don't answer it, though who under the canister 
of heaven can do it, with sich letters as they have on their 
tea-chists, is more than I can tell. It is really too bad, 
though, that some lingister doesn't try it, and not have 
this provoking question asked all the time, as if we were 
ignoramuses, and did not know Toolong from No Strong, 
and there never was sich a thing as the seventh command- 
ment, which. Heaven knows, suits this case to a T, and I 
hope the breakers of it may escape, but I don't see how 
they can. The question must be answered, unless it is like 
a cannoudrum, to be given up, which nobody of any spirit 
should do." 

She brought the spoon down into the cup, and looked 
out through the windows of her soul into celestial fields, 
peopled with pigtails, that were all in her eye, while Ike 
took a double charge of sugar for his tea, and gave an 
extra allowance of milk to the kitten. 



XXII. 

Teamp, tramp, tramp ! Footsteps were heard along the 
passage-way leading from the gate to Mrs. Partington's 
back kitchen, ceasing at the word, " Halt ! Dress ! Shoul- 
der arms ! Support arms ! Carry arms ! Charge bayonets ! 
March ! " said a voice, in a rapid succession of orders. 

Mrs. Partington opened the door at the word march, as Ike 



170 PAKTINGTONIAJSr PATCHWORK. 

charged through with a wooden gun, made of half a clothes- 
pole that he had taken for the purpose, and found herself 
"falling back" before the furious assault, not stoppiTigtill her 
main body lighted under the table, her right wing resting in 
a saucer of milk put there for the cat, and her left much de- 
moralized by a flank blow from the leg of the table. She 
scrambled to her feet. Ike withdrew his force towards the 
door. There was a flush upon her cheek, and anger in her 
eye, as she brought her forefinger up to " present ; " for 
what elderly lady of propriety and some fat would like to 
be knocked under a table by a mischievous boy, even to 
illustrate military science ? 

" What do you mean by doing this, you bad boy?" said 
she, as slie found her tongue. " Do you think you are a 
squirmish, that you atfcick a body in that way ? I'll let 
you know better, sir, when you go to bed. Dear me, how 
you have decomposed me ! I come nigh knocking my 
brains out." 

Seeing that she had not struck her head, it was wonder- 
ful how this could be ; but it was to be pardoned to the 
excitement of the moment. Ike stood good-naturedly at 
" shoulder," and then remarked that he was only going 
through the manual. 

" And what hns a hoy to do with the nian-\x?A^ I'd like to 
know ? " asked the old lady, severely. " You'd better be 
a recruet, and done with it, and go to Pamunky Creek, if 
you want to cut up sich monkey shines." 

" Right about, face ! March ! " said Ike, wheeling to- 
wards the door. 

" Stop ! " said Mrs. Partington ; but Ike kept on. 
"Stop!" she repented ; but he did not mind. Then her 
spirit was aroused, and charging nfter tlie withdrawing 
force, she seized him by the arm. " Why don't you stop ? " 
she cried. 



OEACULAR PEARLS. 171 

" The command wasn't riglit," said Ike ; " it should have 
been ' halt.' " 

" I'll make you halt ! " said she, taking oif her shoe in 
anticijiation of the sentence of a drum-head court-martial. 
But, as she raised the shoe, she caiight a glimpse of the 
profile of the Artillery Corporal on the wall in military 
rigidity, gazing out on nothing, the sword above it that 
had flashed over the Beanville muster-field in the Bloody 
'Leventh, and her eye moistened with a new emotion. 
Gone was her anger, gone the excitement, and gone was 
Ike, who ran out the back door, and leaped the picket. 



XXIII. 

" When one is exasperated with fatigue," said Mrs. Par- 
tington, with the ex cathedra touch emphasized by the sus- 
pended silver spoon, "there is nothing that has a more ac- 
celerating effect than a good strong cup of Oblong tea. 
Besides, there is nothing harmonious in it that will hurt 
any one, and none of the innovation that one feels who 
drinks Japan, and keeps jumping up and down all night, 
like a possessed critter, with no going to sleep till morn- 
ing, and worn out next day so that he can't work, and 
has to take whiskey to steady his nerves, which is an 
abomination. There's a great difference in tea, and, though 
some fancies this and some that, I shall always tliink the 
Oblong is best." 

She here ran down, like a Connecticut wooden clock, 
the spoon still pendent, the steam from her cup rising in a 
cloud of fragrant whiteness, through which her spectacles 
gleamed like stars ; and Ike sat with his elbows on the ta- 
ble, and Lis chin resting on his liands, like a horse-car 
diiver, waiting for her to turn out. 



172 EAETrNGTONIAlT PATCHWOEK. 



XXIV. 

" Are those the Duchess Dangleworm's pears ? " said 
Mrs. Partington, as she stopjDed at the street corner, and 
" hefted " one of a nvxmber marked "12 cents." 

"No, raa'am," was the reply; "them's Easter Beurres." 

" Well," replied she, " I hope Esther Avill find somebody 
to buy 'em at that price ; but I think it is doubtful, they are 
so very high." 

" Yes'm," replied the vender ; " they was raised on very 
high trees." 

" Ah, thank you," said she. " I declare, it is good as 
going to an intelligence orifice to meet with such a one as 
yourself. You ought not to dispense with your wisdom so 
liberally, because by and by it may give out." 

She turned to go away, but felt that her reticule was 
heavier than it was, and found that some one had put a 
large pear in it, a gift, she deemed, from the fruit-vender; 
but Ike walked by her side demurely, and she could not 
see under his cap-visor the fun that was there. He 
could tell how it came there. 



XXV. 

" Mks. Partington et alsP'' said Mrs. P., as Ike read 
an eulogistic notice of herself and retinue thus headed. 
"Is that so, Isaac?" 

" 'Tain't nothing else," replied he, thrusting the cat's head 
through the paper, which served as an elaborated choker. 

" Et als ! " mused she. " I never ate als in my life that 
I know of, though there is so many dishes with new names 
that one might forget 'em all, unless he is an epicac." 



OEACULAB PEARLS. 173 

She turned everything in her mind to remember what 
she had eaten, — her mind an oven full of turnovers, — 
but it refused to come to her ; and she made a memoran- 
dum by tying a knot in her handkerchief, to call on the 
editor, aud find out about it. Ike sat upon the leaf of the 
extension-table, swinging his feet beneath it, trying to 
make a tune out of the creak. 



XXVI. 

" A SERIOUS EiOT ! " said Mrs, Partington, as her eye 
rested on such title to a pai-agraph in a paper. " I won- 
der if it was anything like the riot in church, where the 
two ministers tried to read the lethargy in the same pulpit 
at the same time, and one of 'em got his surplus torn off 
by one of the deacons. It is too bad for serious people to 
do such things ; but it shows how liable we are to get led 
into deficiency." 

" The serious part of it," said Dr. Spooner, straightening 
himself up like a rake-handle, " I suspect, is in the magni- 
tude of the act, rather than in the seriousness of the 
actors." 

" Perhaps so," replied she ; " but I have known the most 
serious people do as bad as others, going about with the 
cloak of hypocrisy in their mouths, and pretending they 
were saints. Thei-e are very few we can trust, and who 
we can put confidence into is a question." 

Dr. Spooner was silent, and Isaac, who was mending a 
slate-strap with a fork, cried out, loudly, " Bother ! " as the 
fork went into his finger. This was a diversion, though it 
was not very diverting to the boy, and the riot was for- 
gotten. 



174 PAETIKGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 



XXYII. 

" Have you seena ? " asked Mrs. Partington of the 
apothecary. 

" Seen whom ? " said he, smiUng, as he recognized the 
dame. 

" Why, seena, to be sure," emphasizing the word, 
"Seena!" 

" I have not, my dear madam, the least idea of whom 
you are inquiring; but I have seen no one whose pi-esence 
has given me greater pleasure than your own." 

" Well, certainly, she said, " that's very kind of you ; but 
I want to know if you have seena? " 

" Madam, I assure you," replied he, despairingly, " that 
I do not know whom you mean. I have seen hundreds, 
thousands, multitudes, but have not seen Aer, among them 
all, that I know of." 

" But you have manners ? " said she ; " and they go to- 
gether." 

" TT7ia^, in Heaven's name?" he almost shrieked, start- 
ing the old lady into looking at him anxiously through her 
"parabolical" spectacles, and drawing Ike away from an at- 
tempt to carom three soap-balls on the counter, to the great 
amusement of the cat. 

" Why, seena and manners," replied she, calmly, " for a 
gentle purgatory." 

" O, senna and manna ! " he repeated sotto voce, and 
procured it for her. She went out as gracefully as a sev- 
enty-four, and soon was hull down in the distance. 







MRS. PAETIXGTON AND THE APOTHECARY. — Page 174. 



NEW AND OLD THINGS 

FROM MY INKSTAND. 
175 



LES MISERABLES. 

A LONG WAY AFTER VICTOR HUGO. 

I. 

JEAN VALJEAN. 

Jean Valjean 
A convict had been — 
For nineteen years no freedom had known. 
When from Toulon released, 
He was feared as a beast, 
And hooted and hounded from country to town. 
The fourth day, near 
To Pontarlier, 
The place of his destination, 
He was hungered and sore, 
But men shut their door, 
Nor pitied his desolation. 
Even the dogs their teunels refused 
To one so vile from bondage loosed. 
Till, by men and dogs alike abused. 
He grew savage with desperation. 

Note. — The writer leaves the pronunciation of certain names to 
the reader's option; " lie pays his money and lie takes his choice." 

12 177 



178 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

He swore to himself a bitter prayer, 
As he passed on through Cathedral Square, 
And shook his fist at the temple there, 
As though he thought the church might care; 
But it frowned in the dark with a frigid air, 
Nor heeded his demonstration. 
With failing strength 
He fell, at length, 
By a very strange fatality, 
At a printer's door, 
The whole world o'er 
The biding-place, on every shore, 
Of wisdom and morality. 

Not a single crumb had he to eat — 

He couldn't buy of bread or meat, 

For the shops were shut along the street, 
And he fain would sleep, 
In its silence deep. 

Forgetting his stinted rations ; 

When a woman, — 'tis always thus, I think, 
That, just as we're going to take a wink. 
And our eyelids peacefully 'gin to sink. 
The woman makes our tempers kink 

With sharp interrogations, — 

A woman saw his sorry plight. 

Asleep in the street on a stone by night, 

A singular couch fot* one not tight ; 

So she sj^oke to him as a Christian might. 

And then he sui-lily told her 

That he was a soldier in distress — 
A claim that always its way must press ; 
We every day its power confess, 
And do our best to aid and bless. 

And never turn cold shoulder. 



JEAN VALJEAN. 179 

She heard and pitied the worthless scamp. 
He swore he hadn't a postage stamp, 
Had sought each door on a bootless tramp. 
She said he mustn't lie in the damp, 

A victim of Fortune's malice, 
But gave him two-pence, and bade him go 
To a house a block along or so, 

Next door to the Bishop's palace. 

Now the Bishop was of men the best, 
In whom the country round was blest ; 
A model man, whose every thought 
With good of his fellow-men was fraught. 
His soul reflected the beaming love 
That streams direct from the throne above ; 
His coustant wish to do for others, 
And held the good and bad as brothers ; 
He acted without regard of self — 
Gave up all thought of rank or pelf, 

And did his Master's duty ; 
The poor and needy ones he fed, 
The languid and the erring led. 
The strong upon their way were sped, 
The hearts were soothed that joy had fled. 
And his tears upon the sorrowing shed 

Sprang up in shapes of beauty. 

With the insolent airs of a surly boor. 
The loafer opened the Bishop's door; 
I dare say left his mud on the floor, 
To the great disgust of Madame Magloire, 
Leaned on his stick the priest before. 

And told him all his story : 
Jean Valjean was the name he gave, 



180 PAETINGTONIAIT PATCHWORK. 

For nineteen years a galley slave ; 
The while he'd managed a trifle to save, 
Was able to pay for wliat he might crave, 

Wherein he seemed to glory. 
The Bishop turned to Madame Magloire, 
Who had placed for three at table before, 
And bade her provide for one guest more ; 

At which Jean was astonished. 
He read to them his yellow pass, 
A record of fearful crime, alas ! 
Of all he had done the world to harass — 
A hojjeless case for prayer or mass ; 
He asked for bread and a bed of grass, 
Nor longer hoped with men to class ; 

But vain was the Bishop admonished. 
Without opening to Jean his head 
He bade Magloire put sheets on the bed 
In the alcove — then to the convict said. 

Sit down, sir, by the fire. 
The man, surprised and wild to hear 
A word of human love and cheer. 
Felt, as might be supposed, quite queer, 
And odd enough in his way did appear. 

But complied with the Bishop's desire. 

The table was set. 
And round it all met, 
Jean Valjean on the Bishop's right. 
The silver forks and spoons of state 
Were put in honor beside each plate. 

When the Bishop complained of the light. 
" The silver candlesticks ! " he cried. 
'Twas a matter with him of a little pride 
To have them lit with a guest by his side ; 



JEAJ!f VAXiJEAN. 181 

And Madame Magloire, 
As she'd done before, 
Obeyed him she'd never in thought denied. 

'Twas a goodly feast you may be bound; 
Magloire a bottle of wine had found, 
And care in a little while was drowned, 

And the convict was in a bother. 
Again he told the Bishop his name ; 
But the Bishop said it was all the same, 
He felt his sorrow and his shame. 
He knew his title ere he came, 

And that he told him was " Bkothee." 

Then Jean Valjean went to bed ; 

But wicked thoughts spun through his head, 

The good, and pure, and holy instead. 

At midnight he arose from sleep. 

And round the house like a cat did creep. 

Doing such perfidious works — 

Stealing the spoons and stealing the forks, 

Then leaped the window and garden gate. 

And left the Bishop minus his plate! 

A wicked wretch, but such must be 

From taking felons and like to tea ! 

So thought Madame Magloire 

And many more. 
But the Bishop smiled more glad than before. 
They had taken his foi'ks, but he said 'twas as good 
To use spoons and forks that were made of wood. 

Jean Valjean was speedily caught 

And into the Bishop's presence brought 

By three gensdarmes — they had him, they thought ; 



182 PABTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

But the Bishop pretended he'd given the plate, 
And told him he needn't have leaped the gate, 
And wondered by what strange absence of mind 
He'd left his candlesticks behind. 

Jean Valjean here opened his eyes 
In a wild and undisguised surprise. 

Then the Bishop spoke. " My brother," said he, 
" You're no more for evil, but good, you see. 
I've bought your soul of you, and withdraw 
It from the imp of perdition's claw, 
To lift it from the ills of the sod. 
And give it to the keeping of God." 

A strange, strange trade. 

As ever was made ; 

But, reader, if you'd find the key 

To open up this mystery, 

I'd say, do go 
To Lee and Shepard's, or where you please, 
And hire or borrow, and read at your ease, 

The book by Victor Hugo. 



II. 

FANTINE. 

Ne'er did monarch array his queen 
Richer than Hugo did Fantine, 

With pearls of gold 

More manifold 

Than she of Egypt wore of old — 



FANTINE. 183 

More regal than those of the " Queen of the South," 
The gold on her head, the pearls in her mouth. 
O, she was fair as nymph or fay. 
And she was sweet as flowers in May, 
And she was as lithe as a breeze at play, 
And she was as mild as a summer day. 
She was all alone — 
No parents had known, 
A waif on the woi'ld for charity thrown ; 
A sad, sad doom, 
For beauty and bloom — 
Immortal seed on a soil of stone ; 
The fruit of love's unhallowed chrism, 
Denied the right of blest baptism. 

Left to shame and human blame. 
That follows the follen like breath of flame, 
Called Fantine 
By herself — Fantine — 
Simply because it was her name. 

She knew none else ; 'twas at her cast. 

Like a bone to a dog, by a beggar who passed — 

'Twas Fantine only, first and last. 

And Fantine loved ; 

Her heart was moved 

With a love more ardent than approved; 

But still it was a love as true, 

As e'er in human bosom grew, 

Fed by Hymen's sacred dew. 

And blest in sacerdotal view; 

For love is the same in poor and rich. 

Working them up to the self-same pitch. 
And don't distinguish " t'other from which." 
She loved, with all her little powers 



184 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

— Hungiy love tliat the heart devours — 
A man of wit and ready thi, 
But soiled by the world and touch of sin, 
With carious teeth and a wrinkled skin, 
And bad digestion — how could he win ? 
His eyes were watery, too, and dim. 
But she saw no blemish at all in him : 

So true to him 

She flew to him. 

And stuck like Hilton's glue to him ! 
But he, the churl, I'm sorry to say, 
Didn't love her in that same way. 
His was a passion — a baleful flame, 
That kindles in fervor and ends in shame ; 
A blaze that burns with a lurid light. 
Then leaves a darkness, as black as night, 
Of broken heart and spirit blight ; 

And poor Fantine, 

With anguish keen. 
Felt cold desertion's direst harms : 

Her first love flown — 

Alone — alone — 
Bearing her woe in heart — and arms. 

In heaven above or earth below 
A purer love none e'er may know. 
Than in the mother's breast doth glow ; 
Irrespective of sin or shame, 
Glorying still in the mother's name, 
Nature asserting its holy claim, 
In fortune's light, 
In poverty's blight, 
In sorrow's night. 
It burns forever and burns the same : 



FANTINE. 185 

And sweet Fantine 
Loved her poor wean 
As 'twere a child of loftier fame. 

On a dusty day 
O'er a jDublic way 
Was Fantine and her child astray, 
Weary and sad, and most forlorn, 
Bound for the town where she was born, 
Hoping an honest living to win. 
Outside the vortex of deadly sin, 
When she arrived at a wayside inn. 
'Twas a queer, old nook, 
With forbidding look ; 
But there before it, in a swing, 
Two children, bright as flowers in spring. 
Rocked to and fro. 
While, soft and low, 
The mother a gentle air did sing ; 
And Fantine felt 

Her motherly heart within her melt, 
As she looked upon the beautiful thing. 
The mothers, with a motherly pride. 
Put their children side by side, 
And poor Fantine, 
As she viewed the scene. 
Thought of her fatherless babe, and cried. 
" What will Mrs. Grundy say ? " 
She said to herself, in a tearful way ; 
For she dreaded the folk of M. sur M., 
And dreaded the lies she must tell to them. 
So she gave up all of her little hoard. 
And a promise of more than she could afford. 
In payment for the baby's board ; 



186 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

Then with a heart of grief and pain, 
And falling tears, like summer rain, 
With empty pocket and giddy brain. 
She wandered forth on her walk again, 
Leaving her babe, without a fear. 
With Mr. and Mrs. Theruardier, 
By prudent folk considered queer. 

Because Fantine 

Must surely have seen 
Tliey didn't respectable appear. 

M. Madeleine 

Had made great gain 

By a patent he had chanced obtain ; 

Godsend to those of M. sur M., 

An El Dorado 'twas to them. 

The little place 

Grew up apace, 
Under his grave and watchful care. 

And industry grew. 

And virtue, too, 
And Fantine found employment there. 

Her toil beguiled 

By thought of her child. 
That there in the distance lived and smiled. 
But she kept her story within her breast. 
And none her weighty secret guessed. 

But gossips were round, — 

They always abound, 
Like canker worms, to curse the ground, 
As clearly, in a moral way. 
As the worms the fnrmer's hope to-day, 
Filling his heart with dire dismay, — 
Gossips who saw her proper life. 



FANTINE. 187 

Who knew not were she maid or wife, 

And whispered this and whispered that, 

In hours of sly, malicious chat. 

Until, alas for poor Fantine ! 

One came among them — her child had seen I 

And then the rout. 

The virtuous shout. 

To think that she had been found out ! 
Then were the arrows of hatred hurled. 
And poor Fantine was thrown on the world. 

Alas for her, 

Sweet sufferer! 
No friends to call on, far or near ; 
And how could she pay Thernardier ? 
He was pressing her for his pay, 
Said the child was pining away, 
Driving her crazed with fears each day; 
Besides, her landlord wanted his rent. 
But she had expended her last red cent ; 

Had even sold 

The precious gold 
That covered her head to raise the dimes. 

And the bright pearls, too. 

In her mouth that grew, 
But not at premium of later times. 

Dante mentions the rapid j^ace, 
And the easy trip to a certain place, 
When mortals fall from a state of grace ; 
'Twas certainly thus in Fantine's case. 
It makes the heart of the virtuous bleed 
The record of her shame to read — 
Till she fell in the hands of the hard Javert, 
And was brought before his honor the mayor, 



188 PAHTIlsrGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

Whose face she spat in then and there ! 

Bat no angry glow 

Did his honor show, 

Who told Javert to let her go. 
Then she, astounded, heard him tell 
That he was one who wished her well ; 
Hadn't known she had left his mill ; 
That 'twas others who had dealt her ill; 

Then had her conveyed, 

For hospital aid. 
Where the Sisters their heavenly mission fill, 
Promising bliss in store for her yet 
In union sweet with her little Cosette. 

Sad, ah, sad was the closing scene 
Of the little life of poor Fantine. 
Crushed, and broken, and poor, and ill. 
She saw her measm-e of sorrow fill ; 
Her hope deferred, till her wasted breath 
Became as one with the airs of death, 
Then sunk to rest, and never met 
The fond embrace of her dear Cosette. 
Her last shocked gaze, with her closing gasp, 

Showing Jean Valjean, 

Her Madeleine, 
Held like a vise in Javert's grasj). 



MISSION OF A EAKE-DONE STEAK. 189 



MISSION OF A RARE-DONE STEAK. 

" Do you take me for a, cannibal ? " said the red-faced 
man, fiercely, addressing the waiter, who had pvit a steak 
before him that from its rareness might have awakened a 
doubt if it had ever felt the fire. 

" No, sir, by no means ; no, sir," replied the waiter, ob- 
sequiously. 

" Then why do you bring me raw beef, sir ? " turning it 
over with an expression of intense disgust. 

" Your order was ' rare done,' sir." 

"Rare doesn't mean raw. This is raw. It roars, sir — 
it roars." 

" Very well, sir, we will change it, and have one done 
better to your liking." 

" See to it then, sir, and don't keep me all day waiting;" 
and the red-faced man turned to a companion at the same 
table, with the remark, "Very annoying, sir." 

" I suppose so," said the one addressed, who, having 
given his order, was balancing the bill of fare on his fork ; 
" but I consider- eating-houses the next best thing to a 
calamity — the gout, for instance — for t!ie trial of patience ; 
they are jirovidential dispensations, so to speak, and those 
who will may profit by them." 

" Nuisances, sir, half of 'em," said the red-faced man^ 
" pah ! raw beef." 

" I smiled at what you said to the Avaiter about it," said 
the believer in the providential character of eating-houses, 
still balancing the bill of fare on his fork, and varying his 
performance with wliirling the castor round, "because it 
called to mind something that occurred to some acquaint- 



190 paetingto]st:an patchwokk. 

ances of mine several years ago. 'Twas the strangest 
thing ! " 

He looked provokingly mysterious, and the red-faced 
man, with curiosity plainly visible, said, sharply, " What 
was it?" 

" Two brothers, who had been apart and hostile for 
years, identifying each other and becoming reconciled 
through an under-done beefsteak ! Strange, but true, 'pon 
my life." 

He glanced up into the fierce man's face as he concluded, 
and saw the greatest incredulity depicted there. Indeed, 
his mouth was just puckering into a whistle; but catching 
the earnest look of the informant, he commuted it by rap- 
ping on the table. 

" I have heard that it was good for a black eye," said 
he, at length, "caused, i^erhaps, by feelings like those 
named ; but hang me if ever I heard any use so strange as 
that to 23ut it to. How was it ? " 

" As it takes some time to cook what I have ordered," 
replied the philosopher, " perhaps I shall be able to tell 
you. Well, you see, old Farmer Wilbur, of Branch Creek, 
Vermont, had two sons — only sons — good, likely fellows, 
but they were always quarrelling. Cats and dogs weren't 
a priming to them. The old farmer was a widower, and 
they and their quarrels made him about as uncomfortable 
as one could well be. At last, when the oldest boy was 
about sixteen, after a terrible fight with his brother, he 
ran away ; and soon after, the old man, having a chance to 
sell his farm to a railway company, improved it to good 
advantage, and moved West, where he became svvallowed 
up, to all intents and purposes, for nobody knew where he 
had gone, ' out Avest,' in some unrememberable locality, 
being all that his old neighbors knew about it. 'Where's 
Farmer Wilbur?' strangers would sometimes inquii-e; 



MISSION OF A EAEE-DONE STEAK. 191 

' Gone west,' was the rej^ly. ' Whereabouts ? ' ' Don't 
remember.' He was just as good as dead, you see — as 
though he had been buried for a century. Nobody had 
heard from him for twenty years, nor the runaway son. 
But at the end of twenty years back came the runaway 
son, with lots of money. He had been in California, and 
was rich as a Jew. He tried every way to find oiit what 
had become of his father and brother, but didn't succeed ; 
and at last, as the next best thing to it, he bought back the 
old homestead, and as much of the land as he could save, 
married one of the pretty villagers, and settled down. In 
buying back the old house, he restored the paint to its 
original color, for Farmer Wilbur's taste had always been 
peculiar. The house was red with white trimmings, the 
blinds slate color, the doors yellow, and the roof blue — a 
very peculiar looking house, and artists travelling in the 
vicinity haA'e been known to go five miles out of their way 
to avoid seeing it. The returned wanderei', out of respect 
to his father, had it painted exactly as he remembered it. 
It was his custom to come to Boston once a year to col- 
lect his dividends — arriving in the morning and going back 
at night. I got quite Avell acquainted with him, and found 
him to be an interesting and good fellow. We usually 
took dinner together at his hotel ; but on the occasion of 
which I am about to tell, he didn't go to a hotel, and we 
went into the French restaurant up here for a lunch. 
While we were there, there came in a man of good appear- 
ance, but evidently a victim of misfortune. There was 
care manifested in his coat, his pants looked shiny but 
well preserved, his boots were patched, but they had lately 
been blacked, his vest was a relic, and his hat of an un- 
certain period. He was seedy, but genteel — poor, but 
respectable. Ilis face was 8troiigly marked by the small- 
230X, and it was apparent from the way in which he half 



192 PAKTINGTOlsriAN PATCHWOEK. 

closed his eyes, as he looked almost timidly aromid, that 
his vision was impaired. ' A beefsteak,' said he, in a mod- 
est tone, 'middling Avell done.' The waiter gave him a 
supercilious look, passed along his oi'der, and turned to us . 
^s mettle more attractive. Our order was ' steak rare 
done.' The stranger took the unoccupied seat at our 
table, and we in our conversation took no further notice 
of him. By and by he had a ])late set before him, and we 
were again attracted towards him by the way in which he 
regarded it ; at the same time we saw that it was as raw as 
the most desperate beef-eater could desire. He took an 
antique looking eye-glass from his pocket, and scrutinized 
his acquisition with much earnestness ; then, leaning back, 
he sighed deeply, and wiped his eyes on a faded blue cot- 
ton handkerchief. There was no anger on his face, but a 
spirit of deep reflection was written thei-e, and bitter sad- 
ness. After a while a smile played over his features, and 
reaching over to us in a confidential way, he said, — 

" ' You may be surprised, gentlemen, at my conduct ; 
but by some strange craze of the mind I am led to associ- 
ate this raw beef with much of my early history. The 
strangest fancy in the world, and I can't account for it. 
While looking at that beef through my eye-glass, gentle- 
men, the first fifteen years of my life passed before me. 
I saw wide-reaching meadows, and lowing cattle, and run- 
ning brooks, and gentle slopes, and a red house with a 
yellow door, slate-colored blinds, and a blue roof, that I 
used to call my home.' 

" ' What ! ' cried my friend Wilbur, starting to his feet, 
in great surprise ; ' did such a j^icture as that present itself 
to you ? and was it a true picture ? What may your name 
be, sir? if I can inquire without being considered im- 
pertinent.' 

" ' Not impertinent at all, sir, and I have no desire to con- 



]ynSSION OF A KARE-DONE STEAK. 193 

ceal a name that has never had crime connected with it. 
My name is Nathan Wilbur — named for my father, a good 
old man, who owned the house I have described.' 

" I saw through it all in a moment, and dreaded lest the 
old animosity should awake; but it was buried beneath the 
years that had passed, and looking in my friend's face I saw 
tears in his eyes. 

" ' Is the old man yet alive ? ' he said to the stranger. 

" ' No,' replied he, much surpi-ised ; ' it broke his heart to 
hear that my brother had become a Mussulman, and had 
forsworn his religion, my father being a strong Methodist.' 

" ' Nathan Wilbur,' said ray friend, in a voice of deep 
emotion, ' I am your brother Matthew.' 

" I may as well cut the matter short," said the philosoph- 
ical man to the red-faced one, " for here are our dinnei'S 
coming. Matthew took his brother home with him, and 
they lived in delightful harmony. Strange story, isn't it, 
and all of an under-done steak? Where would you be 
likely to hear another like it but in an eating-house ? 
How is your steak cooked, sir ? Well, sir, we rail against 
'em, and sometimes it is right we should; but after all, sir, 
they're great schools for us, eating-houses are ; you may 
depend upon that, as trials of j^atience, encouragers of 
hope, and strengtheners of faith, — especially this last, -— 
there's nothing like 'em." 

The red-faced man ate his steak in silence. 
13 



194 PARTINGTONIAiir PATCHWORK:. 



A NEW RAPE OF THE LOCK. 

PAKT I. 

Sweet MadaHne's hair was veiy fair, 
Of asheu-gold hue, by which bards swear, 

Whose glorious curls 

Were the envy of girls — 
Of kink divine and profusion rare ; 

And Madaline's power, 

Evinced each hour. 
Rested, like Samson's, in her hair. 

In such a glory it I'ound her lay ! 

Crinkled in Style's adroitest way, 

Burnt with irons to make it stay, 

— With amount of effort best not to say — 

Its every curl, in the light astray, 

Seeming a streak from the source of day, 

Leading the rapt beholder. 
Who saw it about her neck at play. 
To deem it some amorous sunbeam's ray, 

Lit on her snow-white shoulder. 

Not like the curls we sometimes meet 
Out there upon the public street, 

To good taste oft offences, 
That glisten and twist admiration to gain. 
And excite the susceptible masculine train. 
Till they find at last, to their shame and pain. 
That they're fraud, and the whole of their object, 
plain — 

Getting goods under false pretences. 



A NEW RAPE OF THE LOCK. 195 

At every fenst, or dance, or fail', 
In the burning blaze of the gas-light's glare, 
Were seen those locks tlash here and there, 
Like fireflies in the summer air. 

Enchanting by their glitter ; 
Sought for by eligible beaux, 
Subject for rivalry with those 
Who ached to tweak each other's nose 

In the eager race to get her. 

And her smile was bright as the curls she wore, 
And equal kindness on all she'd pour. 

And each fond swain 

Perplexed his brain 

So far as that organ might obtain. 
As he watched the smile her features o'er, 
If for him it any promise bore; 

But all his watch was vain. 



PART II. 

'Twas in the glow of a festal night, 
The social fires all burning bright. 
The gas turned on to its utmost height, 
Bathing the scene in its fullest light; 

Sweet Madaline, 

The i^ride of the scene. 
The cynosure of enraptured sight 

To many a would-be lover, 
Sat at the board with her golden hair 
In affluent ringlets about her chair. 
Catching the whole of the gas-light's glai*e 

That streamed from the jet above her. 



196 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

Toasted, and flattered, and praised, and pressed, 

She caught each word with a fluttering breast; 

And many a youthful, manly vest 

Swelled at her beauty manifest, 

And pulsing hearts, 'neath the glowing test, 

The potency of her charms confessed, 

With rapturous feeling overblessed 

If her eyes in kindness wandered; 
And her golden hair a wealth possessed 
That bosoms filled with as keen unrest 
As any awaked by the golden west, 

In auriferous dreams long pondered. 

Around her chair 

Her votaries there 

Hung entranced her joy to share 

In each luxurious minute ; 
Already had passed the season of cream, 
And trifles sweet as a maiden's dream, 
And small talk ran like a babbling stream. 

When, a moment's hush, 

A push and a rush. 
And then there came a mellifluous scream, 

Like the angry note of a linnet! 
No one could tell the reason why. 
But 'twas Madaline's cry, and Madaline's eye 
That looked around on the standers-by 

With the fiercest temper in it ! 

PART III. 

" On with the dance ! " and with agile feet. 
The music breathing its cadence sweet, 
The dancers flitted with measure meet, 



\ 



A NEW BAPE OF THE LOCK. 197 

The gay hours moving on pinions fleet, 
With saltatory joy replete, 

And Madaline, 

Again serene. 

Moved in the throng the regnant queen, 
The blissful scene enhancing; 
There were polks and waltzes, galops and reels, 
And those rare movements the dancer feels, 
Thrilling all through from head to heels, 
That make the acme of dancing. 

Again, " Choose partners ! " every set 

In just accordancy has met 

For the gracefulest, grandest trial yet ; 

There are twists and twirls. 

And swirls and whirls, 

And glowing bright are Madaline's curls 
On the happy shoulder of George Manett ! 
(Perhaps that wasn't the very name. 
But the truth of the tale is just the same.) 
About they go in the mazy dance — 
Chassez ! Bnlancez ! Back ! Advance ! 

When, just at the critical turning, 
Fair Madaline seemed struck with a trance ; 
Her feet stood still, and with look askance. 
Astonishment in her countenance. 

Her eyes in their sockets burning! 

The dancers stopped in sore dismay; 

The caller's call none would obey ; 

And there they stood in tlie light's full ray, 

Looking with vacant stare, 
Till Madaline her finger put on 
Her wondering partner's third vest-button, 



198 PAHTINGTONIAN PATCHWOBK. 

Where, gleaming like gold, 
On his waistcoat's fold 

Was a lock of golden hair ! 

Like the fierce wild red man of the west, 

Swinging a scalp as his Abator's test, 

So Manett wore on his sturdy breast 

A lock of hers he loved the best, 

And he vowed a vow that none of the rest 

Should lift a hand to pick it; 
Though how it came there he didn't know, 
But Madaline the spot could show. 
Where late the golden curl did grow, 
That was torn by its roots from its soil of snow, 

In the midst of the golden thicket. 

And that was the secret of Madaline's scream. 
Mingled with noise of spoons in the cream, 
And waking the "spoons" from their little dream, 
Coupled with glance of her eyes' fierce gleam. 

That carried such a start with it; 
And Manett clings to his beautiful scalp 
As firm as the foot of an amorous Alp, 

Determined never to part with it ; 
And Madaline she 
Don't disagree, 

Seeing he has his heart with it. 




THE NEW RAPE OF A LOCK. — Page 198. 



THE VERITICATIOIJ". 199 



THE VERIFICATION. 

I WAS in the old line brig Lively Sally, Captain Knaggs, 
the molasses lugger betwixt Cienfuegos and Boston, and 
was on my way home full of the joyful anticipations that 
a sailor indulges in, whose whole enjoyment is said to be 
in the fortnight preceding his arrival at any port, which 
he gives to pleasant anticipations. This is more the case 
now, perhaps, than then, because in the days of which I 
write, the sailor had a home and friends, now denied to 
the poor habitue of cheap boarding-houses in the purlieus 
of big cities, exposed to the temptations without and the 
corruptions within that tap his exchequer to the last far- 
thing, leaving him to the tender mercies of a villanous 
landlord. The illusion is soon exhausted, and the poor 
fellow is glad to get to sea again, to recuperate during a 
long voyage, to again anticipate, and again be disappointed, 
till dissipation closes the drama, and "poorJack "goes under. 

We had a very good crew on the Lively Sally, and there 
was no prettier fellow ever walked a deck than Bob 
Small, who was a sailor from a love of the profession, and 
who had run away from his home in New Hampshire three 
years before, from which he had not heard a word since, 
and to which he had resolved to return after the present 
voyage. He was in my watch, and often, under the lee 
of the longboat, he would open his heart to me regarding 
his hopes and fears. 

We were one night walking the deck in the moonlight, 
the sea just moved to a ripple beneath the troj^ical air, 
when he caught my arm suddenly, and cried, — 

" Look there ! " 



200 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

"Where?" I asked. 

"There," said he, "in the wake of the moon. Don't you 
see?" 

There, sure enough, swam an immense shark, just above 
the water, within a boat's length of us; and we felt that 
his evil eye rested upon us, as we stood there gazing at 
him. I felt a sense of uneasiness as I saw the monster so 
near us, and Avas sensible of a violent tremor in Bob, as his 
hand rested upon my arm. 

" Jack," said he, impressively, " that chap is after me. I 
can read my fote in every wrinkle of the water as it plays 
around him, and I know very well that he will be my 
tomb." 

" Nonsense," I said ; " what is the use of indulging in 
such feeling as that ? It is no unusual thing to see a 
shark; and what if every sailor should take it into his 
head that he was to be eaten ; do you think he would be ?" 

At that the monster gave a great swirl in the water, 
and the rij)ples flashed in the moonbeams. 

"You see that. Jack," said he ; " he knows what we are 
talking about, and it's a settled thing. His mind is made 
up to have a pick at me, and he will do it." 

" Why do you believe so ? " I asked. 

" O," said he, " I have been too happy. These joyful 
anticipations of seeing home again, and getting the for- 
giveness of the old folks, if they are alive, and seeing my 
little sister Myra, have filled me full. Jack," he continued, 
turning me round, and looking me squarely in the face, 
" do you believe that a man who disrespects his fither so 
much as to shut him down cellar and run away, has a right 
to anticipate happiness? I served mine so. See that 

shark ; he seems to be laughing at what I say, the d 

beast, if I may be allowed the expression." 

I comforted him by telling him that if he had served the 



THE VERIFICATION:^. 201 

old man no worse than that, there was ample hope for 
him, and that I had known a young man who had pitched 
his father into a dry well, forty feet deep, and stolen all 
the old gentleman's tobacco that was in his coat pocket, 
where he had laid it. I didn't tell him, though, that that 
same young man had afterwards been eaten by the New 
Zealanders, which was doubtless a visitation for the of- 
fence. I further told him that he had no reason for his 
gloomy fears, and gently hinted that he was a consummate 
ass for borrowing trouble ; but he mournfully shook his 
head. The calling of the "larboard watch" interrupted 
our conversation, and we turned in. I lay awake but a 
little while, and could hear Bob sigh deeply as he lay in 
his berth. 

The next day the shark was not visible ; but night found 
us again looking over the lee rail, and, as before, right in 
the wake of the moon, was the huge fish swimming along 
with his fin out of water, a boat's length from us, 

" He's after me," said Bob, in a whisper. 

"Nonsense! " I replied ; " he's after me as much as you 
— or Bill Marline here," turning to an old salt of our 
watch, who had been to sea before either of us was born. 

The old man didn't speak for a second or two, but chewed 
violently while he looked at the monster as he swam by, 
seemingly twenty feet long. 

" Well," said he, at length, " I don't know how 'tis, but I 
don't like to see them fellows, nor to talk about 'em. They 
know too much, and it's a pretty sure thing when they are 
round that somebody's booked. Mabbe 'tis one, mabbe 
'tis another ; we don't know, but they do. They have a 
record of it all, and know their man just as well as we know 
one of onr men." 

Bob was deathly pale in the moonlight as he heard this. 
The slowly uttered words of the old sailor sounded to his 



202 PAETINGTONIAiSr PATCHWOEK. 

ears like the burial service, " We commit the body of our 
dear shipmate to the deep," and I could see a tear in his eye. 
I then took him on one side and reasoned with him, but 
it was of no use. He was to die — how, he did not know 
— the shark was to have something to do with it — and 
he was to see his New Hampshire home no more. All 
this while the great sea-monster, with his dorsal fin out of 
water, swam lazily along in the moonlight. 

I think that Bob could jiot have slept a wink all night. 
He turned and turned in his berth, and his sighs were 
piteous. He looked so haggard and worn the next morn- 
ing, that Mr. Goodenough, the mate, noticed it, 

"Ah, Bob," said he, "what's the matter? You look 
like a sick hen." 

Bob simply replied that he did not feel very well, and 
turned his attention to his duties. 

" Time's most up. Jack," said he, in a whisper ; " and 
look there ! " 

Sure enough, there, scarcely a boat's length from the 
brig, was seen the ominous fin, the black flag of the bucca- 
neer of the finny tribe ; and I was for a moment shocked. 

"This can't last another day," said he, seizing the rail ; 
"and you believe it ; I see you tremble. You must go up 
and see the old folks, Jack, and tell 'em how penitent I 
died, and that my life was nottlirown away, though I was 
a runaway. Give them my chest, and give little Myra the 
sea-elephant's tooth with the carving upon it, to keep as a 
memento, and Heaven bless you. Jack." 

The poor fellow wept like a child. 

The whole crew were now attracted along the vessel's 
side to see the great fish that was so desirous of our com- 
pany, and various were the comments made upon it, none 
of which were of the sombre character of poor Bob's, 
though they all looked upon it with a feeling of dread. 



THE VERIFICATION. 203 

The cook — a Curagoa darky of wonderful ivories, and as 
black as jet — stood looking on with the others, his face 
shining in the sun, his emotions evidently different from 
the rest, for his moutli was dr.iwn out into a smile that 
almost divided his head, what was not mouth seeming but 
a sort of black ligament behind his ears. 

" He wantee brekfus, guess," said Africanus to himself. 

His mind at this seemed to arrive at a very decisive 
though comical conclusion. He darted into his camboose, 
from which he reappeared again in a few moments with 
something rolled up in an old red shirt, that seemed to 
send out a steam. 

" What have you got there ? " asked the mate. 

" Brekfus for sliark, massa," was the reply, with an ex- 
pansive grin. 

He said no more, but threw his bundle far out into the 
water before the nose of the shark, who, waking from his 
supineness, darted forward, and immediately swallowed the 
object. For an instant the monster resumed his pace 
alongside the brig ; but this was succeeded by an evident 
feeling of uneasiness, and a moment after he leaped his 
length from the water, falling upon the surfice with a 
crash that sent the spray flying to our fore-yard. Then he 
swam furiously in a wild circle about the vessel, leaping 
occasionally from the water, and turned upon his back. 
Soon his motions ceased, and, rolling over, he lay a silent 
mass upon the water. 

"Golly," said Curaooa, "he got his brekfus, shu. Hot 
brick warmee tummak." 

" Did you give hira a hot brick ? " said Mr. Goodenough. 

"Yes, massa," said Blacky, with a grin ; " and guess he 
don't 'gree wid 'em." 

There was a loud laugh at the cook's experiment, and 
turning to speak to Bub, I found he had left my side. 



204 PARTESTGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

« Where's Bob ? " I asked. 

"Don't know ; saw him here a minute ago." 

I went round to the other side of the boat. He was not 
there. We called him, and searched for him, but he was 
not to be found Then it seemed sure enough that poor 
Bob's misgiving had been verified, and I mourned his loss, 
tliinking of my own melancholy mission into New Hamp- 
shire to inform his weeping friends of his death. It in fact 
cast a gloom over all the vessel, and we could never under- 
stand how he disappeared so suddenly, supposing, how- 
ever, that his luind, becoming morbid, had lost its balance, 
and he had leaped overboard while we were absorbed by 
the cook's adventure with the shark. 

The vessel arrived in about eight days, and, after I had 
got clear of her, I set about the ])erformance of the duty 
that had been charged upon me by Bob. I embarked for 
New Hampshire, having stowed Bob's chest in the bag- 
gage-car, and thought, all the way, what I should say to 
the mourning friends. It was something that I was not 
accustomed to, and I went on the voyage with much mis- 
giving. 

I stopped at the pretty little station of Spruceburg, 
among the hills, at which a coach was waiting to carry 
passengers to Rimmer, a town some four miles distant, 
that was the place of my destination. Upon this coach 
Bob's chest was hoisted ; but, when I attempted to enter, 
I found it entirely full, and the driver's seat was also occu- 
pied by two besides himself. I therefore looked for some 
other means of conveyance. The depot master proved 
my friend, and, after a few moments, informed me that a 
young lady from Rimmer was in town with a Avagon, who 
would return alone in a short time, and that she would be 
happy to accommodate me with a seat. So I gave direc- 
tions that the chest should be left at the hotel, as I was 



THE VERIFICATION. 205 

infoi'med there was one, in oi'der that Bob's friends might 
not see it, and waited for my fair companion. 

The wagon was pointed out to me, and the young lady 
soon came along, to whom I introduced myself, and, help- 
ing her in, I sat beside her. She insisted upon driving, of 
Avhich I was very glad, as I was more familiar with a haw- 
ser than ahorse. She was exceedingly pretty, about seven- 
teen years old, and was in all respects interesting, being 
one of those bright and sparkling little fairies that are con- 
tinual surprises to those who are predisposed to believe 
that all country productions of the kind are awkward and 
disagreeable ; one of which, however, I was not. I found 
her chatty and jileasant, full of piquant remarks, in which 
she did not spare me, and I was perfectly delighted with 
her. The conversation at last turned on Rimmer. 

" Do you reside there ? " I asked. 

" Yes." 

" Then, of course, you are acquainted with all the people 
there. Do you know a Small family ? " 

" There are quite a number of small families," she said ; 
" in fact, none very large." 

" I mean a family by the name of Small." 

" Ah, yes, I understand. Well, I do." 

"Is the name of one of its members Myra?" 

"Yes ; Myra Small and myself are very intimate. We 
sing in the same choir." 

"She had a brother?" 

"Yes; Bob Small. He was a wild fellow, and went 
away to sea years ngo." 

" Have they mourned him ? " 

"No, not much. He locked his father in a cellar when 
he went away, and this rather set them against him." 

" Well, I have sad news for them. I have just returned 
from a voyage with him, and he was lost at sea." 



206 PAHTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

" Sad news, indeed, that will be. But he will never 
shut the old man down cellar agaiu — will he ? " 

" No, I should think as much." 

" Nor torment poor Myra? " 

" No ; but he thought of her at the last, poor fellow ! 
and I have a parting gift for her from him." 

I inquired about the old folks and about Myra, and the 
conversation lasted till we arrived at the hotel, where she 
was to put me down, which I chose rather than go to 
the home of Bob at once. I waited till the evening before 
I went on my melancholy errand. It was a fair night in 
September, the air just beginning to grow a little chilly, 
and I walked very slowly, almost reluctantly, to an en- 
counter that I very much dreaded. My duty to Bob 
alone sustained me in the effort. 

The homestead was a substantial old farm-house, with a 
lane leading u^:* to it, and, turning into which, I proceeded 
on my errand, my heart beating a loud alarum on my ribs. 
The windows were all ablaze with light, and a strain of 
music floated to me from tlie house, auguring a scene of 
happiness and peace within, that I, fiend like, was going 
to interrupt. Should I go on '? Yes, duty to Bob im- 
pelled me. 

I approached, and rapped upon the door. All was still in 
a moment ; but nobody came. I rapped again, and fancied 
I heard in response a titter on the inside. This time, hoAV- 
ever, there was the sound of turning a key or removing a 
bolt; the door swung open, and there, in the light of two 
blazing lamps, held in the hands of my fairy of the wagon, 
who "sang in the choir with Myra Small," stood my old 
shipmate Bob, in apparently excellent condition, and with 
an expression upon his face altogether unlike that which 
any ghost that I ever lieard of wears. 

" Bob Small, by all that's rascally ! " said I, for a 



THE VERIFICATION. 207 

moment regretting that he was not at the bottom of 
the sea. 

"Yes, Jack," said he, after I had entered, "the very- 
same. I hid away in the run on board the brig, 
ashamed of my wihl prognostic when the nigger killed the 
shark, and I determined that even you should not see me 
till you saw me here, as I knew you would, because I knew 
you would comply with my dying request. So Myra has 
been down to the depot every day for a week to watch for 
the big chest, and the fellow along with it, thanking her 
stars to-day at the fortune which gave you her company. 
She knew you from my description and the chest." 

" Well, Bob," I said, " I sujjpose I ought to rejoice that 
you are alive, though hang ine it I would undergo so much 
inquietude on any account again. And Miss Myra must 
accept my apology for not recognizing her by instinct." 

Then the old folks came in, and we had a good time all 
round, the oM gentleman informing me of the ti'ick put 
upon him in shutting him down cellar, which he seemed to 
relish as he recalled it; and the old lady looked as pleas- 
ant as an October evening, while Myra beamed ineffably 
on all. 

Perhaps I ought to finish my story by falling in love 
with Myra and marrying her ; but I found no chance for 
tliat, because she had a huge mechanic who was booked 
for her good graces, though she liked me as the friend of 
Bob ; and I gave her the elephant's tooth, with his dying 
speech, which, years after, I saw her youngest babe cutting 
its teeth upon — I mean the tooth, of course, and not the 
speech. 

Bob is now one of the most successful shipmasters out 
of New York, and I am — the reader's very humble ser- 
vant. 



208 PAETEfclGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 



BUILDING THE BRIDGE. 

A TKUTHFUL STORY OF OI-D PEMIGEWASSET. 

Out spake the Plymouth landlord : 

" A bridge we'll straightway throw 
Across Pemigewasset's tide 

To where the wild flowers blow." 
Then out spake stout Seth Brownleaf, 

Conductor on the road : 
"'Twere worth a deal to all that here 

Mayhap shall find abode; 
And how can one do better 

Than herein show his skill, 
For the credit of his genius 

And the power of his will? 

" So down the bridge goes, landlord, 

With all the speed it may ; 
I, with two more to help me. 

Will build it in a day. 
O'er that bright stream a pathway 

May well be built by three ; 
Now who will stand on either hand 

And build the bridge with me ? " 

Then out spake Jotham Hornbeam — 

A rum'un rough Avas he : 
" Lo, I will stand with axe in hand, 

And build the bridge with thee." 



BUILDING THE BKIDGE. 209 

And out spake strong Jo Chesman — ^ 

A granite boy was be : 
" I will abide with boards supplied, 

And build the bridge with thee." 

« Seth Brownleaf," said the landlord, 

" As thou sayest so let it be." 
And straightway went on their intent 

Those sturdy builders three ; 
For such men in such spirit 

Were bound a bridge to throw, 
That son. and wife, in limb and life, 

Might safely over go. 

The three stood calm and silent. 

And looked upon the tide, 
Then planted first a joiner's bench 

That lay the stream beside ; 
And soon the boarders, looking on, 

Felt their hearts thrill to see 
The joiner's bench and an old board fence 

A path for the dauntless three. 

The axe and hammer sounded. 

As manfully they plied. 
And the bridge stretched out behind them 

In its majesty and pride. 
"Comeback! comeback! bold Brownleaf," 

Cried the boarders with a burst ; 
" On, Hornbeam ! on, Jo Chesman ! 

And we will quench your thirst." 

On labored Jothara Hornbeam, 
Jo Chesman pushed ahead ; 
14 



210 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

The hammers rattled merrily, 
The work triumphant sped; 

And when they turned their faces 
Towards the thither land, 

They saw brave Brownleaf coming back 
With a stone jug in his hand. 

Then, with a shout like thunder, 

They laid the last cross-beam, 
And their voices echoed merrily 

O'er Pemigewasset's stream; 
And a loud shout of triumph 

Rose from the other side, 
As finished was the mighty bridge 

Across the rushing tide. 

Alone stood brave Seth Brownleaf, 

For the others had gone in, 
And the way they bagged those fluids 

Was what men term "a sin." 
« He's done it ! " cried Si. Winkley, 

As he took another chaw ; 
"'Twill squash ! " said old Lishe Porcina, 

Bringing down his dexter paw. 

Round turned his broad face glowing; 

His mates were overcome; 
Nor spoke a word did he to them, 

But looked towards his home; 
He saw the hotel beaming fair — 

The boarders in a row — 
And he spoke to the noble river 

That at his feet did flow : — 



BUILDING THE BRIDGE. 211 

" Father Pemigewnsset ! 

Look at this bridge, I pray. 
Its joiner's bench, its boards and nails, 

Take them in charge this day." 
So he spoke, and gathered up the tools. 

His handsaw by his side. 
And then upon the bridge he'd made 

He crossed the humbled tide. 

And now the shore he reaches, 

Now on the bank he stands. 
Now round him throng the boarders, 

Who shake his muddy hands ; 
But when, three weeks thereafter. 

The fresh came down apace. 
Away went the bridge like a cobweb chain, 

And left not a single trace. 

Yet Hornbeam and Jo Chesman 

Both swear, by main and might, 
That they were sober as a judge, 

And only Seth was tight ; 
And say the bridge would e'er have stood 

Through all the tides and gales, 
If the whiskey hadn't somehow got 

Spilt over 'mongst the nails. 

Note. — The foregoing incident in Roman history will be remem- 
bered by some of the older sojourners at the Pemigewasset House, 
in Plymouth, New Hampshire. Seth's bridge was regarded a fine 
specimen of engineering, though he was not an engineer; simply a 
conductor. It is supposed that it was from this incident tliat Ma- 
caulay conceived his idea of the "Keeping of the Bridge " by Hora- 
tius and others, which he subsequently put in feeble verse. 



212 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 



A MODEL MAN'S EXPERIENCES. 

This story being about myself, my friends will readily 
understand that I am not parading myself as a paragon, a 
model of human excellence, and my fi-iend Young, the 
artist, well knows that I am no model for his use; the term 
model has a significance peculiar to itself, which will be 
explained in the brief sketch here written. You will gen- 
erally find model men, like a j^each, only bright on one 
side — the other often being wormy and sour; the specious 
show outside, perhaps but skin deep, hides the defects, and 
the thing passes for much more than it is really worth. I 
know model husbands, who are pointed at as domestic 
copies for neighborhoods, because they never go out nights, 
never mix in society, never have an idea beyond their own 
limits — a sort of "me and my wife" people, who are not 
remarkable for anything except that. they are models ; but 
Heaven forbid that their selfish pattern should be followed 
by living men. 

But this is not what I was going to say. When I came 
to Boston, some ten years since, I was in a severe corner. 
I had borrowed money enough to bring me here, but the 
last shilling was on the verge of being expended, and 
where to look for more I knew not. I had nothing to do, 
and to beg I was ashamed. Indeed I was a little particu- 
lar as to what I might have to do, for I had graduated 
with some honor at the Academy in my native town, and 
had chosen an entire suit of black for my outfit, at twenty- 
one, — my age when I left hoine, — implying that some 
genteel position was the one destined to be filled by me. 
Perhaps I should become a clergyman, or a lawyer, or a 
schoolmaster, — there was nothing in the way of a profes- 



A MODEL man's EXPEEIENCES. 213 

sion that was too high for my ambition, — and my let-down 
on the Last shilling and nothing to do was very depress- 
ing. A fall in the mercnry from ninety degrees to forty 
could not be more so. 

Like the man when treed by a bear, I felt that some- 
thing was to be done, and I run my thought along the 
whole gamut of expedients, but couldn't elicit anything sat- 
isfactory. Some people have a special gift of luck, and 
when out of employment run their noses by what seems 
chance, but which is, in fact, providence, right into good 
situations and good pay, I felt that I was not thus gifted, 
but was called to work my way into place by the sweat 
of brain and the power of tact. Tlien I thought it over 
again, and resolved upon a plan. I would create a new 
business, and use the press, that stupendous lever, to 
hoist myself into notice. Full of this idea I took advan- 
tage of a slight acquaintance I had made with the editor 
of the Herald to insert in his " valuable journal" the fol- 
lowing advertisement : — 

" A MoDKL Man. — A young man from the countrj'', of good fig- 
ure, manners, and education, desires to let himself as a model, for 
the display of clothing, hats, boots, shirts, collars, or any articles of 
dress, in a manner to exhibit all their beauty and excellence ; or, 
being in good condition, would serve as an exemplification of tiie 
benefit of living at any specified eating-house. Terms moderate. 
Apply at this ofiice." 

This was a bold stroke, and my friend the editor, as he 
marked the advertisement before giving it to the printers, 
with a latent idea that he Avas going to get his pay for it, 
said that the conceit was a good one, decidedly original 
and, if it took well, was bound to be popular. The adver- 
tisement appeared, and I heard it discussed in various 
places where I was not known, and coupled often with 
very discouraging remarks, not complimentary at all to the 
sagacity of the advertiser. . But the next day after it 



214 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

appeared, I was in the editorial room, when a gentleman 
came in and asked for the " model man," whom I immedi- 
ately avowed myself to be, with a front as brassy as 

though I had been boarding a year in 's family, 

with the benefit of his distinguished example. 

" I am that individual, sir," said I ; "what can I do for 
you ? " I couldn't have been more cool if I had been be- 
hind a counter, and he had come in to purchase a bill of 
goods. 

He took a slip of paper from his vest pocket, read it, 
looked at me, and said, — 

« This is all right, — is it ? You're the model ? " 

" Yes, sir," replied I ; " the first I think that ever oper- 
ated here. In Paris they have long been established, also 
in London and Liverpool, but they have never before 
crossed the Atlantic." 

" How is the business conducted ? " he asked. 

" Very simply," I said. " A merchant has clothing for 
sale. He fits me with a new suit, and sends me out to 
exhibit it, which I do everywhere, and send him lots of 
customers, he giving me the clothes and a moderate per- 
centage on the sales. So of boots and hats ; and these 
being essential to the better display of the clothes, I leave 
the tailor the oflice of finding customers for me in this 
line." 

"And will they do it?" he inquired. 

" Do it ? Of course they will," I replied. " Why, I 
so alarmed a merchant in London, who was a little hard 
in terms, by threatening to be a model for another house, 
that he allowed me to hire a horse and buggy, and a boy 
to drive me round town. 'Pon honor." 

" You (fon't say so ! " said he. " Well, my business is 
wigs ; do you ever do anything in that line ? " 

" I can't say that I ever did," I replied : " that is regarded 



A MODEL man's EXPERIENCES. 215 

as the ornamental branch of the work, and commands 
higher pay, but I am disposed to attempt it if you wish." 

He immediately engaged me at ten dollars per week to 
circulate as a demonstrator of wigs. It was in July when 
I commenced my 2)erarabulations, and I soon found that I 
had got my foot in it. There were varieties of wigs that I 
had to wear — thick wigs and tliin wigs, long-tailed wigs and 
bob-wigs, curled wigs and shorn wigs, black wigs and white 
wigs — until I almost lost my identity. Passing through 
the street one day, a familiar voice accosted me with, — 

" How are you, Roby ? " 

This was the name I had borne in my state of native 
innocence, and I recognized one of my school companions. 
I turned towards him to express my delight at meeting 
with him, when he very confusedly said, — 

" Excuse me, sir — mistaken in the person ; " and darting 
round a near corner he disappeared. I had that day 
paraded a brilliant red wig, and my natural hair was as 
black as the raven's wing. 

This was but one of many similar accidents that hap- 
pened. Once I was held as a witness about a street fight ; 
but when I came into court, my testimony was rejected, 
because the officer wasn't satisfied, from the color of my 
hair, that I was the person, which was made a point by the 
counsel opposed to us, and I escaped, thanks to a judicious 
change of wig. I continued in the wig business until my 
employer wanted me to wear female curls, which I ob- 
jected to as unsexing the profession, and gave it up. 

I had, in the mean time, made an agreement with a fash- 
ionable tailor, and sported every variety of habiliment, — 
dress coats, frock coats, business coats, bobtail coats, — till, 
with those who only saw me in exterior, I was regarded 
as a brazen spendthrift ; and I heard, fi-om one of those 
friends who love to tell us unpleasant things, that a story 
had been made up about me, wherein I figured as the 



216 PARTmGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

graceless heir to an immense estate, that I was spending 
in a manner rivalling the reckless extravagance of the 
prodigal son, was a libertine and gambler, had brought my 
father's gray hairs in sorrow to the grave, broken my 
mother's heart, and had rendered my sisters infamous 
by association with my name ! It was astonishing how 
my acquaintance was sought, after this, by respectable peo- 
ple. I was an object of marked attention with the ladies, 
and a formidable rival with rascals not half so lurid as I 
was, who looked up to me with emulous ambition. In the 
mean time I was a living and moving eulogy of my tailor, 
and the firm Avho employed me increased in business so 
rapidly that the original proprietors withdrew from the 
concern and retired to the otiuni cum dig., as all sensible 
people ought to do when they have got money enough. I 
broke with them at last, and stood out on my own inde- 
pendence, when they wanted me to introduce the kilt as a 
summer costume. I remonstrated with them, with tears 
in my eyes, but they were unbending, and, throwing my 
trews in their faces, I departed. The firm failed, I was 
happy to learn, in less than three months. 

As a boot tree I was not so fortunate, my foot being 
No. 10, and No. 8 the average wear ; but by much crowd- 
ing and taking the boot off round the first corner and 
wearing the old ones, I got along pi'etty well. I was bet- 
ter with hats, and made the fortunes of several in exempli- 
fying the beauties of some new patterns, by talking elo- 
quently of allegiance to the crown, and advising people to 
go and buy where I did. 

My business was Avell established, and so adroitly man- 
aged that I enjoyed it in monopoly for a long time, no one 
suspecting me ; but at last vague ideas of it began to pre- 
vail, and I Avas annoyed by all sorts of inquiries and the 
queerest propositions. A man, a tobacconist, wished me 
to stand at his door, in Indian costume, as a sign ; 



A MODEL man's EXPERIENCES. 217 

another, a watch-maker, asked me to dress as Father 
Time, and stand over his shop, with scythe and hour-glass ; 
and an undertaker asked my terms to he in an open coffin, 
and dress for interment ! 

Business ran down after this, as rapidly as it had grown, 
and I was disgusted and disheartened with the annoyances. 
I was about giving it up in despair, when an aching tooth 
drove me to my friend Molar's, the dentist, to have it out. 
He looked in my mouth, thrust iron prongs into it, in- 
serted a small looking-glass and turned it in all directions, 
and seemed at last ready to get in himself, when I stopped 
him to ask why he didn't go ahead. 

" You've got a capital mouth for a set of teeth ! " said he. 

" I know it," said I ; "I always keep a set on hand." 

" Yes," he said again ; " but these are giving out — they 
won't last a month — half of 'em are decayed now." Here 
he gave them a jiush this way and that, till the whole 
seemed in a painful dance round my mouth, and I yelled 
with misery. 

" I don't see," said he, " why any one will suffer so, when 
he can have them out so easy, and new ones supplied. Let 
me take yours out, and I'll put you in a set that will be 
more beautiful than the real ones ever were. Besides, I 
will hire you to grin at all public places, to show their 
superiority." 

"Insidious tempter," said I, quite cin-ed : "you are 
rather worse in your pi'oposition than the undertaker. I 
cannot think of it. Farewell." 

And thus I left him. Tliat same afternoon I received a 
visit at my lodgings — where I had located my office — 
from a tall, grave-looking gentleman, with spectacles on, 
who asked me in a slow, measured voice, if I was the 
model man. I told him such was my profession. 

"Then," said lie, "as I am a man of very few words, and 



218 . PAETIXGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

never say a great deal, deeming that talking, while it con- 
sumes the time, is really no great benefit to conversation, 
inasmuch as a short horse is soon curried, and a fool is 
known by his much babbling, according to holy writ, which 
it becomes us all to respect — being, therefore, as I said, a 
man of few words, and desiring to avoid all circumlocution 
in getting at my object — an object, I may say, that I have 
given some thought, and seen in it an advantage to another 
object that has long engrossed attention — being of a few 
words, allow me to ask you, sir, if you ever dwelt upon 
wooden legs ? " 

He fixed his spectacles on me as he concluded, which 
burnt into my brain like two red hot interrogation points. 

" Never," said I, '•'never;" not guessing his meaning. 

"Then," continued he, "to come to the subject in the 
shortest possible way, with the least expenditure of breath, 
inasmuch as we have none of us any to spare where pure 
air is as scarce as lawyers in heaven — employing a saying 
derived from an ancient theological writer, though I trust 
not true — would you like to be a model, now, to show off 
around town a wooden leg we have achieved, that puts 
anatomy, physiology, and humbugs of that kind at defi- 
ance, sir?" " 

I had risen to my feet when I got at his meaning, and 
when he had concluded, I yelled out " JSFo f'' in a tone that 
made the candelabra on the mantel chatter with affright. 

" Very well," said he ; your manner, though abrupt and 
uncourteous, pleases me. I always study brevity and like 
it in others." Saying this he left me. 

I that afternoon went to New York with the little money 
I had saved, and soon became independent in the leather 
watch-guard business in Nassau Street. I was never a 
model man afterwards, though viitue and propriety have 
been, I may say, my grand characteristics. 



WORK OF THE OLD MASTERS. 219 



WORK OF THE OLD MASTERS. 

In the schools kept forty years ago, and perhaps later, 
the ferule was the emblem of authority, and a picture I 
once saw, illustrative of the " Work of the Old Masters," 
— not in Jarves's collection, — represented a boy under- 
going flagellation with just such an instrument, in the 
hands of the conventional, lean, and lank individual desig- 
nated the Schoolmaster. The picture was interesting to 
me as feelingly recalling scenes wherein I had taken un- 
willing part, no more pleasant than this — the contortions 
of the boy revealing a for from beatific state of mind under 
the progress of the work. Who of the older boys does 
not remember the day and dominion of ferules ? Every 
master was supplied with one, either lying ready for use 
upon his desk or stuck in a socket by its side, in open 
sight of the scholars, held — as. my friend the linguist 
says in Latin, which he speaks like his mother tongue — 
"m teDeufin over them." There was often an exercise of 
fancy and taste in the form of the ferule, and the charac- 
ter of the master could be gathered from the implement 
employed to enforce his authority. The same peculiarities 
were apparent in the use. Some were but botches and 
bunglers, their simple aim being to get through with the 
flogging as soon as possible, striking heavily and in ear- 
nest ; but the performance bore none of the masterly 
touches of genius. Others refined upon punishment, their 
motive apparently being to manifest to their subjects the 
superiority of their mode of " laying on " to that of any- 
one else. I remember the first fei ule at which T trembled. 
It was a formidable " ruler," of lignum-vitae, broad, thick, 



220 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOBK. 

and long, and woe to the delinquent unfortunate enough to 
be flogfffed with it ! An aching hand for a week secured a 
week's immunity from mischief; but O, such hatred as it 
enkindled, and such bitterness of spirit, and such nursing 
of revenge, that even the good-nature of boyhood could 
not lull into forgetfulness ! 

The identical ferule, belonging to Master W , the 

last that I suffered under, has become mine, after a lapse of 
thirty-five years. The master has long since passed away, 
remembered kindly by thousands, who, though never spared 
for faults, were ever encouraged in well-doing by him, who 
had constantly their good at heart. The writer hereof 
yields his tribute to his old master's worth, recalling the 
benevolence of his smile and the gentle words of admoni- 
tion and loving counsel that marked their last interview. 
The ferule, as a relict, released a crowd of old-time memo- 
ries, and reflections that took the form of rhyme, which 
he here appends. They rather apply to the general ferule 
than the particular ; and that its dominion has ceased is a 
matter for hearty gratulation, though the tyranny that 
prompted its use still exists in a degree ; but that is dying 
out before the light of to-day's progress. 

THE OLD FERULE. 

Grim relic of a distant time, 
More interesting than sublime ! 
Thou'rt fitting subject for my rhyme, 

And touch'st me queerly ; 
Unlike the touch that youthful crime 

Provoked severely. 



WOEK OF THE OLD MASTEES. 221 

It was a dark and fearful day 

When thou held'st sovereign rule and sway, 

And all Humanity might say 

Could not avert 
The doom that brought thee into play, 

And wrought us hurt ! 

Ah, Solotiion, that dogma wild. 
Of sparing rod and spoiling child, 
Has long thy reputation soiled, 

And few defend it ; 
Our teachers draw it far more mild. 

And strive to mend it. 

O, bitter were the blows and whacks 
That fell on our delinquent backs. 
When, varying from moral tracks, 

In youthful error. 
Thou mad'st our stubborn nerves relax 

With direst terror. 

I know 'twas urged that our own good 
Dwelt in the tingle of the wood 
That scored us as we trembling stood, 

And couldn't flee it ; 
But I confess I never could 

Exactly see it. 

The smothered wrath at every stroke 
Was keenly felt, though never spoke, 
And twenty devils rampant broke 

For one subdued. 
And all discordances awoke — 

A fiendish brood. 



222 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

And impish trick and vengeful spite 
Essayed with all their skill and might 
To make the balance poise aright ; 

And hate, sharp-witted, 
Ne'er left occasion, day or night, 

To pass omitted. 

I see it now : — tlie whittled doors, 
The window-panes smashed in by scores, 
The desecrated classic floors, 

The benches levelled, 
The streaming ink from murky pores, 

The books bedevilled. 

Small reverence for Learning's fane. 
For master's toil of nerve and brain. 
They saw Instruction marred with pain, 

And Alma Mater 
Was thought of only by the train 

To deprecate her. 

'Tis strange to have thee in my grasp , 
My fingers round thy handle clasj) ; 
No sense of pain my feelings rasp, 

As last I knew thee ; 
Then thou didst sting me like an asp. 

Foul shame unto thee ! 

But gentler moods suggest the thought — 
That still tliine office, anguish-fraught. 
For my best good unselfish wrought, 

Had I but known it, 
And I, with grateful spirit, ought 

To freely own it. 



GEAPE-SKINS. 223 

Perhaps — but I am glad at heart 

That thou no Biore bear'st sovereign part 

In helping on Instruction's art 

By terror's rule — 
That other modes will prompt the smart 

Than this in school. 

Thanks, old reminder of the past, 
For this brief vision backward cast ; 
We measure progress to contrast 

Times far and near, 
Rejoiced, on summing up at last, 

We're not arrear. 



GRAPE-SKINS. 

I SAW a man of portly estate 
Walking the street with regal gait ; 
Just the man that the eye well suits, 
Projjer and nice from hat to boots. 
So perfect his coat, so neat his vest, 
An exquisite taste was manifest, 
And every one who chose to scan 
Could only say, " What a tasteful man I " 

Alas for the glory of human pride, 

As frail and fickle as the tide ! 

For the polish of blacking and brush and oil 

One little spatter of mud may spoil. 



224 PABTINGTOlSnAN PATCHWORK. 

E'en as he walked the pave along, 
With head exalted and footstep strong, 
He trod on a grape-skin in his way, 
And a man disgraced in the dirt he lay ! 

This moral I drew from what I saw : 
There are men in the world without a flaw, 
Who are in such robes of sanctity found. 
And such rare virtues engirt them round. 
That we humble ourselves, as we pass them by, 
With reverent and admiring eye, 
Saying, while viewing such merits rare, 
" Bless us, what good men they are ! " 

But alas for the glory of human pride. 
As fi'ail and fickle as the tide ! 
In the world of men they exalt their horn, 
As though of a better clay they Avere born. 
But there in their path the grape-skins wait, 
— Temptations hidden perhaps till late — 
One step of the foot — one curvetting lurch. 
And down they come from their eminent perch. 

In dress or morals 'tis much the same ; 
And happy is he who wins his fame. 
If he die at its zenith, nor has to wait 
Till he slip and fall tlirough invidious fate. 
He may dodge the rock and shy the cloud 
That threat his step and bearing proud. 
But let him not crow till danger's past — 
He may by a gi'ape-skin be overcast. 



THE LETTER OF DISMISSAL. 225 



THE LETTER OF DISMISSAL. 

Many years ago there lived in our town two young per- 
sons that every one said were made expressly for each 
other ; and that the parties thought so too, was very evi- 
dent from the way in which they sought each other's so- 
ciety. It was rare to meet one without the other — at 
church or on a ramble in the romantic places about the 
town, on the old bridge that crossed the brook in the 
meadow, in the forest patli that led down by the ruin of 
the mill where the man was sawn into slabs by a gang 
saw, at every rustic party where candy and kisses ruled 
the houi', — they were always together; and a more loving 
couple never were seen than they. They obtained the 
soubriquet of " The Turtle Doves," and ■ as they moved 
along so very lovingly, the young girls would look after 
them very wistfully, and wish that Heaven had made them 
such a dear, nice, pretty, agreeable young man as was 
Walter Rymes, and the young men had a similar wish 
about Jennie Laurel, who was called the village belle. 

And she was pretty. I remember her very well, and 
before her entire absoqjtion by Walter Ryuies, I had what 
a maiden aunt of mine denominated, very unpoetically, a 
"sneaking notion "after her myself; had twice escorted 
her home from singing school, and once had pressed upon 
her acceptance a large pippin apple, at which she was 
quite grateful; but Rymes cut me out at the singing 
school, the gift of the apple was forgotten, and so was I. 
But like a philosopher I endured to see the attachment 
strengthen between them without howling al)0ut " Re- 
venge ! " or enacting any other melodramatic absurdity. I 
15 



226 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

was assured by my venerable relative mentioned above, 
that there was as good fish in the sea as ever were caught; 
and rightly apj^lying the soothing remark, I took to smok- 
ing, and merely pufied a little moi-e vigorously at the con- 
tinual evidence of Rymes's triumph. 

That she was beautiful I could prove by a daguerreo- 
type of her upon my memory, — not heart, but memory, — 
which the changes of time and circumstances have not 
dimmed. The only difficulty would be to get at it, and 
my powers of description are somewhat limited. She was 
a fine buxom lass, with flesh enough uj)on her bones for 
one and a half of the common sort of women. Her cheeks 
were of the most unsentimental cast, — red and glowing, 
— her hair golden, and lay in curls all about her head, and 
her eyes were bewitching — of an indefinable color, for it 
was impossible to look in them long enough to detect any- 
thing but the spirit of mischief that dwelt in them — that 
looked through their half-closed lids like a sword ready to 
start from its scabbard. Her complexion was white and 

transparent, and her shoulder! The attempt were 

altogether vain that would do justice to charms like hers. 

And Rymes seemed like a happy man. He walked the 
streets gayly, and whistled at his business, which was 
that of foreman and cutter to the tailor of the village, 
and was envied and quizzed, and laughed at to any 
extent, all of which he bore with cheerfulness, because 
he was the one that had the best right to laugh — the 
winner. 

And thus matters were, when the ambition that plays 
such havoc with the young, found entrance at the door of 
liymes's heart, and he thought to himself that the position 
of journeyman tailor in a small town was not a very high 
one, and he thought very nearly right, resolving, very sen- 
sibly, that he would leave the " gay and festive " that the 



THE LETTER OF DISIVIISSAL. 227 

village aiForded, and, with the hope of winning fortune 
and Jennie, go to some big city where he could have room 
for his gigantic energies, and make money, and get mar- 
ried. Jennie was the sunlight that warmed his ambition 
into life, her smile fringed his future with joyous successes, 
her voice called him to duty in the big world. And how 
true they were both going to be ! The everlasting hills 
might melt away like snow-flakes, but their loves should 
be more substantial than the everlasting hills, and would 
not melt away. 

Thus they parted. 

I heard from those acquainted with the parties, that let- 
ters, warm, glowing, and frequent, passed between them ; 
that Rymes was succeeding beyond his expectations, and 
predictions were rife that a wedding would soon take 
place. About a year after he left the town, I followed 
him, and by queer chance, found myself in the same city 
with him, and benenth the same roof The lady who kept 
the boarding-house was a towns-woman of ours, and her 
hotel was the natural resort of people of our place who 
visited the city. There always are such resorts in every 
city, where people from all parts of the world meet and 
smoke, and talk Avith friends from the old town or the old 
country. And such associations keep alive our home sym- 
pathies and love for early scenes, all a lifetime, which, but 
for them, might have died out or grown dim in the damps 
and fogs of earthly care. Those quiet reminders of home 
— those domestic oases in the great waste of cities — are 
of much benefit, and the homesick are drawn towards 
them instinctively by the attractions of common interest, 
to find there some motherly old heart to confide in, whose 
counsels and sympathies come to tlie disconsolate, like the 
dew on the flowers, giving them new hope and new strength 
in the encounter of life. There, too, companionship^ may 



228 PATINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

be renewed, and old joys be discussed, and old hopes be 
recalled, verified or not in the great arena of Aftertime. 
There are those, however, who take no pleasure in such 
places, and have no attraction there — who are hard-faced 
and self-sufficient, and ask no sympathy from any. Such 
may be those we have loved as boys, and we feel pained 
as we find them passing by us in the street without sign 
of recognition, evincing their forgetfulness of the scenes in 
which we were sharers, and all because the old boarding- 
house down in some dark street has been overlooked, 
where the lamp of loving memory is kept burning, and 
where the ties of dear companionship remain intact and 
unbroken. 

" Ah! my boy, how are ye ? " said a voice in the serene 
twilight that pervaded the little parlor of the boarding- 
house on the afternoon of the day that I had arrived by 
the eastern stage. I had been seized, upon my arrival, by 
the landlady, and called to answer a thousand questions 
about the old place, which had been poured upon me with 
such volubility that I was rather exhausted, when the voice 
and its hearty tone came with a sense of relief, and turn- 
ing round hastily I recognized Walter Rymes. But how 
unlike the old-time Walter was he ! He had undergone a 
metamorphosis, to be sure. He was dressed in the height 
of fashion, his hair was profusely curled, and a jDair of 
elaborate whiskers adorned his cheeks. 

He shook me warmly by the hand, again and again, 
asked me when I arrived, and when I was going away, — 
the invariable sequence, — and inquired after the old place 
very aifectionately. I answered the last question first, and 
assured him that everything was all right. 

" By the way, Rymes," said I, " I saw Jennie yesterday. 
She's just as charming as ever — blooming as a rose — 
sweet as a pink. Ah, you're a lucky fellow ! " 



THE LETTER OF DISMISSAL. 229 

I really felt that he was a lucky fellow, and enforced my 
remark with a touch just above the waistband, near where 
anatomists and fact locate the heart. He colored a little, 
looked down, drew a line on the faded three-ply carpet 
with the toe of his glossy boot, but made no reply. I 
thought this very strange, but imputed it to modesty, and 
the tender sentiment that allows none to obtrude upon the 
sanctity of the feelings, and made no further remark upon 
the subject. 

I found Walter a great favorite, especially among the 
ladies of the house. He was gay and handsome, — two 
powerful reasons for his poj^ularity, — and I soon saw that 
if he were not spoiled, he was in a fair way to be spoiled. 
There was no party to which he was not invited ; he was 
the chaperon of fair damsels to theatres and concerts, to 
balls and sujjpers he was a welcome addition, and every 
Sunday he slept in a fashionable church in the most ap- 
proved mode. But Walter was lacking, I soon detected, 
in the substantial element of sound sense, and his intel- 
lectuality was not of the order that characterized a Chan- 
ning or a Story, for profundity. With him show was 
everything, and the tinsel and glitter of life were all of its 
gold. 

I was surprised one Sunday morning by having Walter 
take me by the button in a very mysterious manner, and 
then, after looking in every direction to see that there were 
none observing him, he whisked me into his room and 
closed his door. At first I deemed there might be some 
danger, seeing that he removed the key and placed it in 
his pocket, hung his hat upon the handle of the door 
in order to cover up the key-hole, and took other precau- 
tionary steps that seemed scarcely called for under ordi- 
nary pacific circumstances ; but seeing no more than the 
usual fire in his eye, I ventured to ask, — 



230 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOKK. 

« What's the row ? " 

Putting his mouth close to my ear, he whispered, — 

" Can you keep a secret ? " 

I assured him that I positively thought I could, and 
would give him evidence of it if he confided in me, bind- 
ing myself by any penalty he might propose. 

" Well, then," he began, pulling his chair in front of 
mine, and bending forward, " you remember my little affiiir 
with Jennie ; you spoke of her the day we met. 'Twas 
a pleasant little affair enough when I was there ; but faith, 
there are so many attractions pulling all ways here, that 
such rustic emotions must change, you know. To tell the 
truth, I've got tired of Jennie — tip-top girl, and all that; 
but, you know, she's rustic as the doose." 

" Well," said I, somewhat surprised, "what next?" 

"Why, the fact is, my dear boy," continued he, "I want 
to write her a letter, breakins: off the little engagement 
between us ; but I don't know exactly how to go about 
it. I want to express for her the warmest friendship, but 
to regard the old love passage between us as nothing more 
than a mere childish whim. I want to do it so that it may 
not break her heart, for I don't wish to injure the poor 
thing." 

I could scarcely refrain from laughing in his face, but 
kept my countenance, and answered him that if he wanted 
such a letter written he had better write it. 

" That's just it ; I want to, but don't know how. Now 
I believe you can do it, and if you will, I shall consid- 
er myself very much your debtor. You will — won't 
you ? " 

I could not resist such importunity ; so I drew up to the 
little yellow painted table, with which every boarding- 
house is supplied, and he, j^lacing his chair next to mine, 
glanced over my shoulder, whilst I wrote as follows : — 



THE LETTER OF DISMISSAL. 231 

" Boston, June 1, 18 — . 

" Miss Laueel : It is a painful task that I have to per- 
form, involving as it does much that is regretted by myself, 
and much that I fear will be offensive to you, affecting, as 
it does, essentially, the pleasant relations that have so long 
subsisted between us. The feeling of attachment that we 
encouraged, I have found, upon mature examination, to 
be but a childish sentimentalism, rather than love, which 
should be riglitly understood, in order that we may assume 
our true position towards each other. I have therefore 
thought best to write you this, expressing my warmest ad- 
miration for you as a woman — the enjoyment of whose 
friendship I shall always prize as the bi'ightest page of my 
life's history, and the continuance of which, as friendship, 
I should prize above rubies. Wishing for you the choicest 
blessings in life, I remain 

" Yours, very unworthily, 

"Walter Rymes." 

I submitted it to him, and he read it over as well as 
he could, for my chirography was not of the Duntonian 
school, pronouncing it a very fine letter, and assuring me 
that he could scarcely refrain from weeping as he read it. 
But that was all in his eye. He locked it up carefully in 
the drawer of the little yellow table, and we went down 
stairs. I saw by the appearance of things that there was 
some fun afloat. A broad grin rested upon the faces of 
all the boarders, and several positive winks gave me to 
understand that there was a secret resting among them 
somewhere that was aching to get out. 

" So Rymes has told you his secret ? " said one, when 
Walter hnd gone. 

"Yes," said I; "but what do you know about it?" 



232 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

" As much as you do," said be ; " he has told it to every 
one in the house." 

Another one coming up, — a jolly dog, — chucked me 
under the ribs, and in a mysterious manner begged me not 
to tell that secret to any living being! I found it Avas 
really known to all in the house, but said nothing. 

Walter copied my letter, adopting his own orthography 
in many instances, but preserving the phraseology very 
generally, and with the same mystery that had attended 
its conception, I was called to look it over. I saw it ad- 
dressed, and deemed that now my share in the business 
was at an end. That night I received a letter from our 
town, calling upon me to come home for a particular pur- 
pose, and as the letter had not been sent, I volunteered to 
carry it. I accordingly became the bearer of despatches, 
and all the way during the sixty miles that T rode in the 
stage, I was imagining how the letter would be received, 
preparing myself for a fainting fit or two, and reproaches, 
and tears, and the usual scenes attendant, as per romances, 
on sundered ties and broken vows. 

I called upon Miss Jennie Laurel as soon as I arrived, 
and Avas received as an old friend should be. She threw 
her arms around my neck and kissed me with a warmth 
that gave my conscience a twinge for my complicity in the 
guilty letter which still reposed in ray pocket. 

" And so you are a Boston fellow ! " said she, feeling of 
the quality of my coat as she sjjoke, and inspecting me 
from top to toe. 

"Yes," said I, "and I board with Walter Rymes. I 
have a letter for you in some of my pockets." 

"O !" cried she, clapping her hands, "that's prime; he 
is such a fool, and we always have fine fun with his letters. 
I always show them to the girls." 

" Indeed ! " said I ; " then you must care a great deal for 
him." 



THE LETTER OF DISMISSAL. 233 

" Care for him ! Why, I never cared for him except as a 
walking-stick." 

" Here is his letter," said I, extending the missive. 

She took it and began to read, and I could see her eye 
sparkle as she proceeded; but what the particular emotion 
was, — wliether of grief or anger, — I could not determine. 
At last she screamed out with a gushing laugh, as musical 
as a summer brook. 

" 'Tis a letter of dismissal. O, it is delightful — the 
only sensible letter he ever wrote me in his life." 

I thought her cold-hearted, and I found that my former 
passion had lost its power over me. 

" Well," said she, " you must carry my answer back, and 
I hardly know what to say, either. I wish I could get you 
to write a few lines for me." 

" With pleasure," said I, laughing at the oddity of writ- 
ing an answer to my own letter, and taking out my pencil, 
wrote as follows : — 

" River Brink, June 5. 
"Mr. Walter Rymes. 

" Sir: Yours received. Such a step as you have taken 
was quite necessary on the part of one of us, as I am to 
be married on Wednesday next. Your friendship would 
be no more agreeable than your love. 
"I am, sir, 

"Jennie Laurel." 

She read over what I had written, blushed a little, smiled 
a little, and whispered, — 

" If you had said Sunday instead of Wednesday, you 
would have come nearer the truth." 

" Indeed ! " said I, surprised ; and then she told me the 
story of an immense ship carpenter, who had been court- 



234 PAHTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

ing her as powerfully as only a ship carpenter can court, 
for six months, .and that she had consented to marry him 
on the next Sunday night, the only difficulty in the way 
being her connection with Waltei-, and she feared his heart 
would break to lose her. His letter came very opportune- 
ly, and she was happy to be released from the fear of caus- 
ing him evil, even at the expense of her pride. 

She copied the letter, and I carried it to Walter, and he 
enjoyed the triumph of the dismissing party. Jennie was 
married at the time she named, moved down east, and be- 
came the mother of a large family of good-natured chil. 
dren. Walter left our house soon after, and I lost sight 
of him for many years. One day, about three years since, 
while passing up State Street, I heard my name called by 
a very ordinary looking fattish man, slightly grizzled, whom 
I did not at once recognize. 

" What," said he, " don't know Rymes ? — don't remem- 
ber the letter of dismissal ? " 

I shook him by the hand, and inquired regarding his 
welfare. 

" All right," said he ; " got married, and made money by 
it — needn't do a stitch of work again as long as I live." 

"Are you happy in your marriage relations?" I asked. 

"There," said he, in a whisper, "is just where the shoe 
pinches; and if it wasn't for the confounded relations by 
maiTiage, I should get along very well." 

" Mr. Rymes ! " screamed a shrill voice ; and looking in 
the direction from whence it came, I saw an obese look- 
ing woman, very slatternly and last-yearly in fashion, beck- 
oning my friend towards her with a faded parasol. 

" You will please excuse me," said he ; " my wife is call- 
ing me. We live out of town. Come and see us. She 
wUl be delighted to get acquainted with you. You will 
like her — but — have you a mother-in-law?" 



MY frieistd's secret. 235 

Before I had a chance to reply he was again summoned 
by the shrill voice, and shaking my hand violently, he 
darted away, barely escaping the wheels of a coal-cart that 
was going along. 

Poor Rymes ! I never saw him again, but I heard 
soon after that he was dead ; and I could not help sus- 
pecting that that mother-in-law was somehow responsible 
for his demise. 



MY FRIEND'S SECRET. 

I POUND my friend in his easy chair, 

With his heart and his head undisturbed by a care ; 

The smoke of a Cuba outpoured from his lips, 

His foce like the moon in a semi-eclipse ; 

His feet, in slippers, as high as his nose, 

And his chair tilted back to a classical pose. 

I marvelled much such contentment to see — 

The secret whereof I begged he'd give me. 

He puffed away with reanimate zest, 

As though with an added jollity blest. 

" I'll tell you, my friend," said he, in a pause, 

" What is the very ' dientical ' cause. 

" Don't fret ! — Let this be the first rule of your life ; — 

Don't fret with your children, don't fret with your wife ; 

Let everything happen as happen it may, 

Be cool as a cucumber every day ; 

If favorite of fortune^or a thing of its spite, 

Keep calm, and believe that all is just right. 



236 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

"If you're blown up abroad or scolded at home, 
Just make up your mind to let it all come ; 
If people revile you or pile on offence, 
'Twill not make any odds a century hence. 
For all the reviling that malice can fling, 
A little philosophy softens the sting. 

" Run never in debt, but pay as you go ; 

A man free from debt feels a heaven below ; 

He rests in a sunshine undimmed by a dun. 

And ranks 'mid the favored as A No, 1. 

It needs a great effoi't the spirit to brace 

'Gainst the terror that dwells in a creditor's face. 

" And this one resolve you should cherish like gold, 
— It has ever my life and endeavor controlled, — 
If fortune assail, and worst comes to woi'st, 
And business proves bad, its bubbles all burst, 
Be resolved, if disaster your plans circumvent. 
That you will, if you fail, owe no man a cent." 

There w^as Bunsby's deep wisdom revealed in his tone, 
Though its depth was hard to fathom I own ; 
" For how can I fail," I said to myself, 
"If to pay all my debts I have enough pelf?" 
Then I scratched my sinciput, battling for light. 
But gave up the effort, supposing 'twas right ; 
And herein give out, as my earnest intent, 
Whenever I fail to owe no man a cent. 



THE WIFE CUEEE. 237 



THE WIFE CURER. 

" Been up in the country ? " I queried, as I met my 
fi-iend Burner in the street a few days since. I hadn't 
seen him for some time, and he looked bi'owned and very 
rough, as if he had been exposed to the country sun. He 
informed me that he had, and that he had been to visit 
Tim Somers, a mutual friend of ours, who had moved away 
from town many years befoie. After inquiries concerning 
his visit, and his enjoyment during the warm months, con- 
versation reverted to our old friend. 

"I never was more surprised in my life," said Burner, 
" than I was to see him in the depot at Ramshead. I had 
quite forgotten that he was located there." 

I informed him that I had also forgotten it, though I be- 
lieved his wife's relatives were living there. 

" His wife's — yes, yes," continued Burner ; " singular 
woman that ! Did you know her ? " 

" Yes," I replied ; " she is a little, bustling, talkative 
thing, full of fun and chat, and making her house merry by 
the music of her voice. Nice little woman !" 

Burner looked at me a moment, and burst into a laugh, 
to my great wonderment. I requested him, in a tone of 
chagrin, to inform me Avhat the deuce he was laughing at. 

" Talkative ! " said he, when he could check in his 
cachinnatoiy colt ; " I found her anything but that, I tell 
you. I never knew the lady when she lived in town ; but 
a more taciturn body I never saw than I found her." 

" Indeed ! " I remarked ; " then there must have been a 
change, truly." 

" I met Somers in the depot," continued Burner, " and 



238 PAPtTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

he was very glad to see me, inquiring after his old friends, 
and you with the rest. Through all his joy, however, I 
saw that there was a vein of sadness ; and when I alluded 
to his family, he appeared embarrassed, and disposed to 
change the subject. I had no object in view in visiting 
Ramshead, other than the change of scene, and did not 
intend to remain there more than a day or two ; but meet- 
ing Somers led me to think that it would not be a bad 
thing to tarry there a while, seeing that there was a beau- 
tiful pond of water in the vicinity, as I had seen from the 
car as I came along, and a deep wood, denoting game. 
Somers used to be great on tliose things, you know. I 
hinted at our former sporting practices, and mentioned my 
half resolution to stay ; but instead of manifesting any in- 
terest in the subject, he sighed deeply, and replied, — 

" Burner, I haven't taken a pole in my hand nor put a 
gun to my shoulder for five long years, and I never shall 
again." 

I looked at him with astonishment, but I knew that he 
was sincere. I fancied that I saw a tear in his intelligent 
eye, and my heart drew stronger towards him than ever. 
I then quite resolved to stay, and ordered the porter of the 
hotel to carry my baggage — my valise and gun — up to 
the house, which was close by. My rod-cane I carried in 
my hand. Taking Somers on my arm, we followed the 
porter ; and a few moments later found us seated in my 
room, with a little rummer of claret negus between us — 
'an excellent lubricator for a dusty day. 

" Well, how are you' prospering, Somers?" I inquired, 
wishing to penetrate, if possible, the mystery that en- 
shrouded him, deeming that it might be some business dif 
ficulty in which he was involved. 

" Doing capitally," he replied ; " haven't lost a dollar 
since I came here. People have nicknamed me 'Lucky 
Tom.' How wrongly people judge in measuring men ! " 



THE WIFE CUHEE. 239 

" What do you mean by that ? " said I, as I saw the 
cloud creep over his face, as you have, while standing on 
the mountains, seen a shadow flitting across the meadow. 

" I mean," said he, " that in measuring us, they take but 
one feature into the account, and upon that base an hy- 
pothesis of happiness, or luck, as the case may be." 

" Are you not happy ? " I asked, in a tone calculated to 
win his confidence. 

" I am far from it," he replied ; " indeed, a more misera- 
ble man is not to be found in these i^arts." 

" In what regard ? " 

" My wife is dumb," he almost sobbed, in answer to my 
question. 

"Dumb ? " I repeated ; and, thinking to rally him, said, 
in a jocular manner, " Well, that is a very singular thing to 
be sad for ! I know many husbands who would be too 
happy to have such a calamity happen to them. Burns 
says, — 

" ' An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter ; ' 

and there's no contention in a house where a perpetual 
silence is the bond of unity." 

I saw that he was hurt, and hastened to remedy the evil 
I had done. Taking him by the hand, I said, — 

" Tom, I assure you I would not Avound your feelings 
willingly. I am no less your friend than I ever was, and 
no less worthy your confidence. Now, I wish you to tell 
me the cause of your trouble, that I may share it with 
you, or possibly alleviate it." 

He hesitated a few moments, and then said, with con- 
siderable emotion, — 

"Well, Burner, old friendship is stirring within me, and 
I shall do at its prompting that which I thought nothing 
could wring from me. You remember bow happy I was. 



240 PAKTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

There was not a man in the world who had more friends, 
true friends, than I had. My home was a happy one — 
my wife pleasant, my children handsome and intelligent. 
You never saw my wife, Burner ? " 

My name in the connection sounded like an impreca- 
tion upon his wife, and the Burner a wrathful explosive — 
"burn her." Somers continued: — 

" When we moved up here, things went on in pretty 
much the same pleasant way, until there came to the vil- 
lage a lady whom I had formerly known, and about whom 
and myself there had been a little gossip in old days. Our 
acquaintance was renewed, and I visited her several times ; 
made no concealment of my intimacy with her, and invited 
my wife to accompany me, but she declined. She wished 
to make no new acquaintances, she said. There was a fre- 
quent visitor at my house, a relative of my. wife's, who 
poisoned her ears with suspicions that it was not right be- 
tween May Brennon and myself. She repeated the old 
gossip, with additions, spoke of my visits to Miss Brennon, 
and hinted at criminality, as that foul-minded class al- 
ways will, who, having small virtues of their own, conjure 
up impure conceits regarding their neighbors, imputing 
wrong where the strictest purity might not see occasion to 
blush. I was returning home one summer evening on foot, 
having spent the day in business at a town a few miles 
fi'om this, when, by a strange chance, a short distance from 
town, I met Miss Brennon. It was pure accident that 
brought us together, and she turned back with me, taking 
my arm. We walked slowly, as the weather was warm, 
and stopped a moment on the rustic bridge yonder to look 
down into the stream, and say a few pleasant words about 
old times. I saw some one pass by us as we stood there, 
but was indifferent as to whom it might be, and bidding 
my companion good by, I went home as happy as a lord, 



THE WIFE CUKEE. 241 

in anticipation of meeting the ones there that I loved so 
well. I met with a cold reception. My bane was sitting 
with my wife in council, and I read judgment on the face 
that had too many times lately turned unkindly to- 
Avards me. 

" So you've come, Mr. Hypocrite, have you ? " was the 
first salutatiou. 

" Certainly, ray dear, I have come," I replied, " though I 
can scarcely see reason for the application of the name 
to me." 

" You cannot ! You who have just left that vile crea- 
ture, on whose account and in whose company you have 
all day been absent from your home ! You cannot ! " 

" I have been away all day on business," I said, as calm 
as Socrates. " I was returning home, and encountered 
Miss Brennon. We walked together a little way, and 
then I left her for ray pleasant home, and certainly did 
not expect such a reception." 

" You did not ! " said she, sneeringly ; " but you are 
found out, sir ! You stood upon the bridge, with your 
arm around the strumpet's waist, and kissed her ! " 

I felt aroused at this. I can bear any attack upon my- 
self, but the reflection upon Miss Brennon was too much 
for me, who knew her pure character and exalted worth. 

" It is a falsehood ! " I shouted, " and your informant is 
a malicious and malignant falsifier ! " 

The relative gathered herself up to go ; but before she 
went, I gave her a lesson on lying and tale-bearing that 
she has not forgotten yet. She has never crossed my door 
since. As soon as she was gone, I turned to my wife, and 
said, — 

" As for you, raadam, if you cannot make a better use 
of your tongue, you had better never speak again." 

I was heated, in a passion, and scarcely knew what I 
16 



242 PARTIXGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

said ; but the unkind words entered into her soul. I left 
the house, and did not return for a. long time. I found her 
calmly and undisturbedly sitting where I had left her, but 
she spoke not. She arose, and performed such duties as 
were required of her, but she did not speak. Vainly I 
addressed her; she made no reply. I grew alarmed. I 
begged her to speak to me, but not one word would she 
deign me. It has continued thus ever since. Not one 
word has she uttered to me or any one. My home is 
dismal as a totnb, or I would have invited you there." 

He ceased his story, and I told him how much it had 
interested me. 

" But," said I, " have you tried no remedy to cure this 
disease? for disease it must be." 

He told me that he had not. 

" Then," said I, "take me home with you, and if I don't 
cure her, strike the si)urs from my heel as an unworthy 
knight." 

I went home with the poor fellow, and found things 
pretty much as he had represented. I was introduced to 
the mistress of tlie mansion, who received me with a pro- 
found bow. 

" A delightful home, madam, this of yours ? " said I, 
glancing admiringly out of the window. 

I looked towards her, as though expecting a reply. She 
merely nodded her head. 

"Are there many such in this vicinity, among the hills?" 
I j)ersisted, looking her in the face. 

She colored, as though she were confused. 1 found sub- 
sequently that I was the first stranger that he had dared 
to take home for several years. I saw by her organism 
that slie was not naturally a bad woman, and divined at 
once that she had vowed j)erpctual silence at the unkind 
words of her husband, and that it needed but a single word 
to break the spell which rested upon her. 



THE WIFE CURER. 243 

I continued my engineering, making all manner of do- 
mestic inquiries regarding the children, of whom she ap- 
peared very fond, but could not elicit a word from her. I 
next alluded to her husband and our old acquaintance, and 
in the course of my remarks made some reflections, in a 
playful way, upon the slight blemish in one of his eyes — 
the only fiault in his really handsome face. I saw a shad- 
ow of chagrin rest upon her brow, and a moment after, 
when I praised him, a pleased expression effJiced the cloud. 

" Aha ! " said I to myself; " here are pride and affec- 
tion, at any rate ; these springs have not dried up, and I 
think that language may yet be unsealed." 

A day passed, but nothing transpired save manoeuvres. 
I have never tried so hard to make myself attractive as on 
this occasion, and felt that I had succeeded; when on the 
second morning she greeted me with a smile, and extended 
her hand to me as I came from my chamber. I chatted 
and rattled on about the town and its splendors, told of 
new improvements, changing fashions, crinoline and lovely 
bonnets, all of which was listened to with evident interest. 
Still she wouldn't speak, confound it ! I trembled for my 
sjDurs. Something must be done. 

" Mrs. Somers," said I, very suddenly, " will you allow 
me to look at the palm of your hand ? " 

She extended her hand very readily, and I gazed upon . 
it as though I were a wizard engaged in some trick of 
necromancy involving the fate of the household. Looking 
in lier face, I relinquished her liand and sighed deeply. 
She appeared surprised, and seemed as if expecting me to 
say something. 

" You may well be surprised at my conduct," I said, 
" but your surprise would be overwhelming could I dare 
tell you the motive of it. I cannot do this without com- 
promising others. I may say, however, that in your hand 



244 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

I discern a j)owev that may be employed for immense 
good. There are Hues in it that meet and diverge, and 
come near together again without meeting. There is a 
mystery ! " I looked at the hand again, rubbed my fore- 
head as though I were much perplexed, and went out ab- 
ruptly. I saw her face depicted in the glass as I passed 
out, and it bore the expression of great wonder. 

" How far is it to the top of Rattlesnake Hill, Somers ?''' 
I asked, at dinner time, as we sat at table. 

"About fifteen miles; why?" he replied, and asked. 

"Because I am going there to-night. I must be there at 
precisely midnight. I am going to gather a charm from 
the old Rattlei-'s cave, through which I hope to obtain a 
treasure that will compensate for all trouble and danger." 

"You cannot go," said he, anxiously; "the way is one 
of peiil. It is full of ravines and pitfalls, and the serpents 
are very numerous." 

I saAV that his wife shared, in his uneasiness, and her 
looks said, " Don't go I " plainer than words could speak. 

" So much the better for my purpose," said I ; " were it 
not attended with danger, that which I seek would be 
valueless. I shall go; and more than this, I shall walk." 

Somers and his wife changed looks, which I interpreted 
to mean, " Well, isn't he a queer one ? " and after a few 
.moments at table I left the house, telling Somers that I 
should be back by the morning. I accordingly struck out 
stoutly for Rattlesnake Hill, accompanied by bis uttered 
blessing and his wife's inarticulate benison ; but when I 
reached the first brook, I made my cane into a jointed fish- 
ing rod, and indulged till sundown in very fine sj^ort. 
The trout never bit with more avidity ; and having caught 
a goodly string, I carried them to a farm-house not far 
away, and had them cooked for my supper. Late in the 
evening I returned to my friend Somers's, and enjoyed 



THE WIFE CUEEK. 245 

a fine night's rest upon his haymow. At daylight I 
aroused the family by knocking at the door ; but I greeted 
them with a simple shake of the hand, gazing abstractedly 
at Mrs. Somers. She looked troubled. 

" Somers," said I, " please leave me a moment with your 
wife. It is a matter that you may some time know, but 
not at present. Have you not heard of my wonderful 
development as a seer?" 

He said he had not, but, without explaining, I pushed 
him out and closed the door. I knew that he would listen, 
however. 

"Mrs. Somers," said I, "my mysterious movements are 
fast growing to a climax. I last night plucked a dragon's 
tongue from the mouth of the rattlesnake's den ; I laughed 
with the midnight echoes, and stood face to face with the 
darkness, in order to gain what I sought. Your hand, 
please ; thank you. The lines are brought nearer to- 
gether, and it needs but one word of yours, in response to 
an incantation that I shall utter, to make my mystic charm 
complete. You must say, Yes, or all is as nought." 

I looked wildly as I spoke, and I saw that she was, as it 
were, spell-bound. 

" And this is my incantation," I continued ; " you swear 
that you hate Tom Somers." 

"No!" she almost shrieked. 

Poor Tom had been listening. Fearing harm to his 
wife from my supposed lunacy, and hearing the question I 
had put, and the response, he rushed in, frantic with joy, 
clasped her in his arms, kissed her over and over again, 
and jumped about the room with the wildness of a mad- 
man. She did not seem to comprehend what she had 
done for an instant, but when she reraembei-ed that she 
had sjjoken, and divided the meaning of my cabalistic 
efforts, she came near fainting with her emotion. 



246 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

"Thank God! the spell is broken ! " said she, "the hid- 
eous spell that has bound me to silence and sorrow so 
long," 

" The mystical word having been spoken," said I, " that 
brought the diverging lines together, I am free to tell what 
I sought at midnight on Rattlesnake Hill." 

" What was it ? " they both asked in a breath. 

" A woman's tongue ! " I replied ; " and since I have 
found it, never allow any trifling cause to silence it again." 

My theory was correct with regard to her not speaking. 
She had vowed perpetual silence, and had kept her vow 
until brought to utter one word, by stratagem, which 
had unsealed her tongue again. The children Avere de- 
lighted, and ran all around the neighborhood telling every- 
body that their mother could talk, and everybody rushed 
in to ascertain what it meant. For a time it seemed as 
though anarchy and confusion had become installed on 
Tom Somers's hearthstone, to make up for the silence that 
had so long brooded there ; but he bore it all good-hu- 
moredly. I left them a week afterwards, the happiest couple 
you ever saw, and my midnight excursion to Rattlesnake 
Hill was frequently alluded to. 

" Did you really go there ? " Mrs. Somers asked, the 
morning before I came away. 

" No ! " said I, imitating her emphatic accent of the same 
monosyllable in reply to my incantation, and we had a 
grand laugh about it ; Tom Somers swearing that my seer- 
ship was the best ever known, and my magic had wrought 
a happier effect than that of all the fairies he had ever seen 
exhibited at the theatre. 

" Good by," said Burner, as he finished his story, and he 
left me well satisfied with the manner in which he had 
spent his vacation. 



GOUT. 247 



GOUT: 

A SUBDUED CASE. 

Dear Nannie, place my easy chair, 
And give my foot the proper square — 
Be careful how you touch it ! — theeb ! — 

That pang, just past, 
Might cause an anchorite to swear, 

Nor risk his caste. 

And now my pen with acrid- sting 
And ink of verjuice hither bring, 
That I may Gout's demerits sing 

In limped strains ; 
A theme ignored — a baleful thing — 

It prompts my pains. 

My muse is no ecstatic sprite, 

To lead me, wildered, out of sight. 

And breathe ineffable delight 

In bird-like lays ; 
.Than this I try no higher flight 

To win my baize. 

But how describe the pain and ache — 
The surging, burning, shooting shake ; 
The wrench, the rend, the twist, the break, 

The anguish deep, 
The while diie demons hold a wake 

To murder sleep ! 



248 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

Milton has writ of Purgatory, 
And Poll ok a more lurid story, 
And Dante raised h — eat con amore^ 

But mine the worse, 
Compared with which their highest glory 

'S not worth a curse. 

But hold ! my pet canary there 
Sings from his perch a gentle air, 
Regarding me with tender care — 

In fear, 'twould seem, 
His looks might tall on me somewhere, 
To make me scream. 

Entranced I listen — pen suspent — 
To him strange fascination lent. 
And his sweet song, the air besprent, 

Thus seems to say — 
, The while from me his eye intent 

Turns not away : — 

" You surely make a great to-do 
About tliis thing that troubles you, 
All selfishly forgetting, too, 

The pain you make ; 
Be just a bit to renson true. 

For manhood's sake. 

"And don't you see, my muddled friend, 
Great good from great ill may descend ? 
And anguish, that the heart doth rend, 

May give a birth. 
Of grandest offices the end, 

And priceless worth ? 



GOUT. 249 

" So this same gout that you revile, 
Though painful, doubtless, for a while, 
May prove at last the creaming oil 

— The thought is valid — 
That makes antagonisms smile 

In life's great salad. 

" But for this gout would you have known 
The myriad favors to you shown — 
The kindly hearts to you have flown, 

Attentions dear, 
The atmosphere of love outthrown 

To give you cheer? 

"How friends have pressed, with smiling lips, 
Freighted with fruits, like orient ships, 
To lighten up your joy's eclipse, 

While here you groan ; 
And, from electric finger-tips, 

Hope's seeds have sown ! 

" What gives that crutch its magic power 
To call more spirits than Glendower? 
You'd hammer like a thunder shower, 

I greatly fear, 
Did sympathy not ope a door 

Through which to hear. 

" A most ungrateful churl, at best, 
You will nor reason manifest; 
Inside's a demon more a jjest 

Than this without ; 
Disturbance of the spirit's rest 

Is worse than gout. 



250 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

"Then stop complaint, and be a man ; 
Be true, and your tormentor scan, 
And ask, May it not be a plan 

Your faults to snub? 
Perhaps in them it all began, 

And there's the riibP 

The song here ceased. I dipped my pen, 
But all the spite had left me then. 
And simply shouting out, " Amen ! " 

I gave it o'er ; 
Sure ne'er a bird to mortal ken 

Sans: so before. 



THE VENERABLE SLEDGE. 

When the Venerable Sledge joined the Tweedleville 
Chui'ch there was a sensation. He had been set down as 
one of the hardest headed and hardest hearted among the 
inevitably doomed ; and though he had done well by the 
church, and helped support it, they had long since come to 
the conclusion that the Venerable Sledge could not be 
pointed to as a living light illustrative of the efficacy of their 
labor. It was told of him that at one time a committee 
was appointed to wait on him and expostulate with him 
on some practices that would not, they conceived, help him 
to any moral elevation. He met them with a smile, invited 
them to take a little something for the stomach's sake, — 
which I am happy to say they declined, — listened to all 
they had to say, and without replying, asked them if a cer- 



THE VENERABLE SLEDGE. 251 

tain pew that lie named was for sale, sending them back 
with the assurance that he thought he should buy that 
pew, which he did. 

The Venerable Sledge joined tlie church, and though 
those who knew him best did not see any very particular 
change in him, his new associates were aware of a wonder- 
ful transformation. His jokes, in wliich he still occasionally 
indulged, were no longer tlie fruit of levity, but of inno- 
cent playfulness, and his laugh, which, before his joining, 
was the outward expression of some unclean spirit, now 
M^as the ebullition of a cheerful temper. 

There was a picnic in a grove, gotten up for the delecta- 
tion and benefit of the small fry of the parish, and the old 
were all invited to give counsel to the young by pres- 
ence and by word; and tbey all went, the Venerable Sledge 
among them. It was delightful to see him trudging to- 
wards the depot with his capacious basket, and his coat 
pockets full to repletion with good things. Even the dogs 
looked pleased as he went along, and turned and Ibllowed 
him a few steps, as if looking lor an invitation, and then 
ran away, licking their chaps, and landoubtedly regretting 
that they belonged to some other parish. The picnic Avas 
a great affair. The sponge-cake and doughnuts were the 
lightest that ever were made, but the speeches were very 
heavy, — at least the childi-en thought so, — and the day 
passed nominally happy, though in reality all that thought 
anything about it, as ever since picnics were invented, said 
to themselves it was a bore, to be tolerated, however, for 
the sake of the children. 

The Venerable Sledge thought for a long while that he 
was happy. He promenaded, and swung, and played Co- 
penhagen with a truly delightful tem|)er, but at last his 
laugh was forced, and his legs were weary ; his patience 
gave out, and a large black ant, crawling up one of his feet 



252 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOKK. 

handles, broke him down completely. He vowed he never 
would be caught in a like scrape again, I should like to 
know one wlio has not made the same resolution, and I 
should like to know one who has ever kept it. 

In a mood far from placid, with his hands thi'ust deep 
down into his pockets, as if he were trying to keep some- 
thing from jumping out, the Venerable Sledge roamed about 
like a* perturbed spirit, whistling," Ever be happy" — an 
injunction in wide contrast with his real feelings. The day 
had seemed very long to him, but he knew it must come 
to an end — he had never known one to keep more than 
twenty-four hours — and the reflection had a touch of joy 
in it. A voice accosted him. 

"Mr. Sledge," said the Seductive Deacon Tung, touch- 
ing his arm; "we are about taking up a contribution for 
our Sunday School, and would like to have your name for 
a five spot." 

"Make it ten," said Sledge, in a very demonstrative 
way. 

"O, thank yon," replied Tung; "he that giveth, you 
know, lendeth, and so forth." 

" What building is that?" asked the Venerable Sledge, 
for the first time observing a very long building near, that 
he had not seen before, with windows all along the sides ; 
" is it a ropewalk ? " 

" O, no," said the Seductive Deacon, smilingly; "and I 
am surprised to hear you ask such a question — that is 
a bowling alley.'' 

"And now I am floored," said the Venerable Sledge; 
"pray tell us what bowling is — is it anything like this?" 
— making his liand as near like a Avine-glass as he could, 
and pretending to drink. 

"Bless you, no," replied the Seductive Deacon Tung; 
"it is a very innocent and harmless amusement and exer- 



THE VENERABLE SLEDGE. 253 

cise, called by many ninepins. There ai'e really ten jjins, 
though originally nine, the tenth being introduced to evade 
a ridicnlons law tliat proscribed ninepins. Let us see if we 
cannot get in, and I will show you." 

He went to the house near by, and returned with the key, 
the Venerable Sledge taking a deep interest in the pro- 
posed lesson. 

"'Tis played with balls — is it? " said he, as he tried to 
get hold of one of the big balls, which seemed to evade 
his grasp and slip from his fingers. 

" Yes," said the Seductive Deacon Tung, " the pins are 
set up on the boards yonder. We stand at this end of the 
alley, and, throwing the balls, knock down as many of the 
pins as we can, and those who knock down the most win 
the game." 

The Venerable Sledge looked at the Seductive Deacon 
and the man that owned the alley, who had come in hop- 
ing to get a quarter, and then at the board, and then he 
tried to lift the ball again, making awkward work of it. 

" If you tliink there'd be nothing wrong in it," said the 
Venerable Sledge to the Seductive Deacon, "I think I 
should like to roll just once; not if there's any harm in it, 
you know. I believe I could knock all the pins down at a 
lick." 

They did look tempting, for the man had stood up the 
pins like a little army, and there they were as if challeng- 
ing the prowess of the Venerable Sledge and the Seduc- 
tive Deacon Tung. The deacon said ho did not consider 
there would be the least harm in it, and proposed that they 
should roll just for sport, the one who knocked down the 
least to pay twenty-five cents for the use of the alley. 

The Venerable Sledge selected a ball, at first spitting 
on liis hand; then he moved first one way and tlien the other 
way, stooping down and standing up, closing one eye and 



254 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

opening the other, thrusting out his tongue, and showing 
all signs of nice calculation. At last he drew a line on 
the pins; but the ball sheered, and he made a positive fail- 
ure of it, much to his mortification; the next time he hit 
the outside pin with such vehemence that he came nigh 
driving it through the end of the building; the next time 
he succeeded in bringing down two, 

" My eyes ! " said he, when he had done ; " it looked easy 
enough." 

The Seductive Deacon carefully selected his ball, took 
his position, gave a short run, and a large portion of the 
pins went by the board ; the other throw was alike success- 
ful, and the third as much so, proving the Seductive Dea- 
con the winner. 

" You ai'e an old player at it, I guess," said the Venera- 
ble Sledge, paying the man the quarter, with evident mor- 
tification on his countenance. 

" I have played some," replied the Seductive Deacon. 

" Well," said the Venerable Sledge, " I believe I can do 
better next time. Now, if you will roll to see who shall 
pay the whole that we have subscribed to the Sunday 
School fund, I am ready to do it. What say?" 

The Seductive Deacon smiled, for there was a strong 
temptation in the proposition. It would be an easy way 
to liquidate his subscription, and secure the same benefit 
to the school as though he paid it himself Besides, it 
would be a transaction between themselves, and it would 
teach the Venerable Sledge a lesson. He would see by 
his loss the truth of the Orphic saying, — • 

" Children and fools 
Mustn't play with edge tools." 

"I'll do it," said he after a little hesitancy, "though I 
am afraid you risk a little too much. Shall I roll first ? " 




THE VENERABLE SLEDGE. —Page 255. 



THE VENERABLE SLEDGE. 255 

"Yes," said the Venerable Sledge ; " and then I can see 
how you do it." 

They took their stand — the Seductive Deacon still smil- 
ing in a very self-satisfied manner, justifying himself on the 
plea that the end sanctifies the means. He made three 
excellent hits, bringing down nearly all the pins every 
time. At last it came the turn of the Venerable Sledge. 
He took up the ball awkwardly, poised it as though it were 
a hundred pound shell and he were afraid of its exploding; 
then his muscles grew very rigid, his lips compressed, his 
eye was wonderfully clear, and the ball went from his hand 
like an arrow to its target, sweeping down every pin at the 
first sweep. 

" A ten strike ! " said the Venerable Sledge with won- 
derful familiarity with the terms of the alley : " two 
spares." 

He looked at the Seductive Deacon, who stood in blank 
astonishment, as though he were floored as comjjletely as 
the pins had been. 

" I think," said the Seductive Deacon, faintly, " you must 
be an old player." 

The Venerable Sledge only replied by throwing another 
ball with the same result, as if to clinch the matter, and 
then they rejoined the picnic — the Seductive Deacon Tung 
satisfied that he had made an ass of himself. He paid the 
subscription, but never thought the Venerable Sledge's 
moral quality was any better than his own, though he 
never said much about it. 



256 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 



A HORSE-CAR INCIDENT. 

No matter what horse-car, but it haj^pened that I had 
to go a mile or two, and held up my cane to attract the 
attention of the driver or tlie conductor of one of them, 
which I did after some difficulty. I am bound to say it 
was not on the Touchandgo road, for the officers employed 
there have an instinctive knowledge whether a man Avishes 
to ride or not, and indeed often by the magic of the up- 
raised finger they draw people in to ride who had hardly 
any previous intention of it. I have been attracted in this 
way, and found myself, to my astonishment, seated in the 
car, confident that I had signified no disposition to do so. 
In this instance, however, I would ride, and got in. 

There were the usual passengers in the car — the respec- 
table people going out of town, who were reading the 
last editions of the i:»apers, the women who had been 
shopping, the servant girls who had been in to visit their 
friends, feeling no interest in one anotlier, and all absorbed 
in their own reflections, as I was. I was thinking serious- 
ly, when — my eye was attracted by some glittering ob- 
ject on the floor, beneath the opposite seat. 

Of course everybody is attracted by glitter. A piece of 
glass in the moonlight may be a diamond, and show is far 
ahead of substance in influencing men, from the illusion 
which affi^cts short-sighted vision. Thus this glittering 
object. What was it? — a diamond pin dropped by a 
former passenger ? No, it could not be this, because it 
appeared to be round, and bigger than a pin stone could" 
be. Could it be a bracelet? No, for it was too small. I 
directed my gaze more earnestly towards it in my doubt, 



A HOESE-CAR INCIDENT. 257 

and saw that it was a quarter, bright and sparkUng with 
the fresliness of new mint about it, so it seemed. 

This I detei-mined to make mine at the first chance, for 
a woman was sitting very near it, and I dreaded any con- 
fusion I might cause, by a sudden plunge, through the mo- 
tion of tlie cars; so, whistUng at a low breath, as if indif- 
ferent, but keeping my eye upon the prize, I awaited the 
opportunity that should insure me the coveted one-and- 
sixpence. It soon came : the bell rang, and the lady op- 
posite, with her arms full of bundles, walked out, leaving 
the object of my ardent regard more distinctly in view. 
It seemed to me that every one in the car had an eye on 
that quartei', which I felt was mine by right of discovery, 
and which I was determined to have. 

As the coach started I rose and fairly tumbled over into 
the just-vacated seat, taking care to drop in such a way as 
to screen the glittering bait. I looked at my fellow-pas- 
sengers, and found that all were staring at me, as though 
they were reading my secret. The conductor had come 
inside the door, and was looking at me, and a heavy gen- 
tleman on the same seat with me leaned far out on his 
cane, so that he could take in my whole j^erson with his 
glance, as though I were a piece of jaroperty on which he 
had to estimate. I felt my face burn, and a general dis- 
comfort seized me, as a man sometimes feels when he has 
done a wrong or a foolish act; though I couldn't think the 
act I was about to perform was wrong, and no one could 
say it was foolish in one to try to get a quarter of a dol- 
lar in this day of postal currency. At length I stooped 
down as if to adjust something about my boot, and slipped 
the object of my solicitude into my hand, unseen, as I be- 
lieved. 

" What is it ? " asked the conductor. ' 

" What's what ? " said I, with affected smartness. 
17 



258 PARTENGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

"What you just found," he persisted. 

" I was pulling my pants down over my boot," I pre- 
varicated. 

" That's all humbug," said he ; " you found something 
in the car, and it belongs to the company." 

"Prove that I found anything," said I, angrily. 

"Young man," said the voice of the big man who was 
leaning on his cane, still looking at me, "it is as bad to 
lie about a thing as it is to steal. I saw you pick some- 
thing up, and to me it had the appearance of money." He 
struck his cane on the floor as he spoke, and grasped it 
firmer, as if to clinch his remark. 

"Yes," said the conductor ; " and we don't want nothing 
of the kind here, and what's more, we won't have it ; so 
hand over." 

" My fine fellow," said I, prepared for a crisis, " I know 
my rights, and, without admitting that I have found any- 
thing, I contend that if I had, in this public conveyance, 
which is as public as the street to him who pays for a ride 
in it, that which I find in it is mine after I have made due 
endeavor to find out its owner. Money being an article 
impossible to identify, unless it is marked, if I had found 
it, it would have been mine — according to Whately, Ly- 
curgus, and Jew Moses." 

"Hang your authorities," said he; "I don't know any- 
thing about 'em, but this I know, — that money belongs 
to the Touchango Horse Railroad Company, and I'll have 
it. Ain't I right, Mr. Diggs ?" addressing a gentleman 
with glasses on, reading the Journal. 

" I think you are," replied he, looking at me over the 
top of his spectacles, as though he were shooting from be- 
hind a breastwork; "I think the pint is clear, and that it 
belongs to the company to advertise it and find out the 
owner." 



A HORSE-CAR INCIDENT. 259 

" Well," I put in, " suppose they don't find the owner; 
who has it ? " 

" The company, I should think," said he, folding his pa- 
per preparatory to getting out. 

"That's it," said the conductor, taking up the thread as 
he put the passenger down ; "and now I want that money." 
He looked ugly. 

" What money ? " I queried. 

"The money you picked up on the floor." 

I saw that I was in a place of considerable difficulty, in- 
volving a row on one side and imputation of villany on 
the other, and studied how to escape. 

" Well," said I, " if, in spite of the authorities I have 
quoted, you insist upon my giving this up which I hold in 
my hand, — the value of which I do not know, — I shall 
protest against your act, and hold the company responsi- 
ble." 

" Responsible be blowed," replied he, severely ; 

"shell out." 

The people in the car were much excited. The fat man 
on the seat had risen up, though still in sitting position, 
and balanced himself upon his toes to get a better view. 
I unclosed my hand and deposited in the conductor's a 
round piece of tin that had been punched out by some tin- 
man and hammered smooth, bearing a close resemblance 
to money ! 

The disappointment of every one was intense. The 
conductor intimated that if he met me in society he would 
give me my money's worth, the fat man muttered some- 
thing about my being an "imposture," several lady passen- 
gers looked bluely at me, and only one laughed heartily at 
the whole affair, as I did. It was a queer incident. 



260 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 



THE OLD RED EAR. 

Thou 'mind'st me of the festal niglit 

When, though the stars were sliut from sight, 

The fleet hours winged witli footsteps hght, 

To pleasure's note, 
And mirtli and song put care to flight 

To realms remote. 

Ah, sweet the picture thou dost bring! 
Reseated in that magic ring. 
We round the circle deftly swing, 

As then we swung ; 
While every way the husks we fling 

The crowd among. 

And merry joke and rejiartee 

Dart to and fro with noisy glee, 

And speech unloosed finds accent free 

From mirthful lips. 
As sweet as roses that the bee 

Delighted sips. 

Dim is the lantern's dusky glow 

Upon the cereal heaps below. 

But bright the wit in ceaseless flow, 

And bright the gleam 
Of eyes, above the gloom that throw 

A brighter beam. 



THE OLD EED EAR. 261 

The old grow young again to mark 
The sounds that shatter in the dark, 
Where boys and girls in playful lark 

Their bent attain, 
And fun, like an electric sjoark. 

Smacks out amain. 

Ah, crimson ear ! thou ledd'st me through 
A scene I'd fain again renew, 
That e'en to ponder in review, 

By memory's beam. 
Enchants me till I sadden to 

Dispel the dream. 

What precious rights didst thou impart ! 
How soon I learned them all by heart ! 
How did my pulse in tumult start, 

As thou, revealed, 
Didst prove a key, whose dexterous art 

Rare sweets unsealed! 

Ah, every kernel is a tongue 

That speaks me back those scenes among; 

Through Time's back door, wide open swung, 

A sight I see, 
Of flowers of joy, at random flung. 

No more for me. 

But such is doom, and such is best; 
And older hearts should seek for rest, 
Nor in such fancy sfocks invest 

As husking bouts ; 
They are for youth, 'tis manifest — 

The elders " outs." 



262 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 



EXPERIENCES OF A LAME MAN. 

My fall on the ice last winter and the dislocation of my 
hip were attended by evils of a serious nature, and they 
have followed me ever since — the great pain that attend- 
ed the hurt being followed — as my wife who is a joker 
has it — by the great payin' of the incidental bills that 
seem to grow stronger every day, though it is now the 
mosquito and fly season, when the seasonable bills are 
superadded. I but yesterday received one from Dr. Bolus 
to this effect, wi-itten in a style of calligraphy unsurpassa- 
ble for its obscurity : — 

Mr. Doubledash to Dr. Bolus, Dk. 

To setting one hip, $15.00 

" two months" medical attendance, 50.00 

" medical attendance at office, 10.00 

$75.00 
Received Payment, 

The bill was handed in by the doctor's collector, and after 
some trouble we deciphered it. The setting a hip was 
at first construed to mean setting a hen, the medical at- 
tendance musical attending, and the third charge, appear- 
ing to be a frantic attempt at Sanscrit, was too much for 
us, saving the amount, which was remarkably distinct. 
The luxury of disease has to be very severely paid for — 
the immediate need of a doctor shutting out all idea of 
after payment, and the bill comes in upon our convales- 
cence like an Alpine avalanche of snow upon a summer 
valley. In war as in sickness the same rule holds. We 
need armies, and ships, and munitions, and we order them 
regardless of the bill that will one day come in for them, 
that is to be paid. 



EXPERIENCES OF A LAME MAN. 263 

I said at the outset that the evil thus begun has ever 
since followed me. Though every one of ray fi'iends knew 
very well how I became lame — that with my customary 
gallantry I turned aside from the icy path to admit of the 
passage of a crinoline of nearly the diameter of a load of 
hay, and slipping fell, as Caesar fell at the base of Pom- 
pey's statue — still insinuations were rife, and nods and 
finger ends made mischief whenever the affair was men- 
tioned, subjecting me to great annoyance. I was beset 
with importunities to sign the pledge, grave peoj^le with 
white chokers stopped me in the street on very slight 
acquaintance, and cautioned me as to the tendency of hab- 
its whose indulgence was unworthy a Christian gentle- 
man, and a tract entitled the "Drunkard's Doom," was 
put into my hands as I stood at the door of my own hired 
house, by a woman with a blue nose and red spectacles, 
or vice versa, as I was too much angered to remark dis- 
tinctly which. It was in vain I repelled the insinuations. 
I was met with a sickly sort of pitying smile, and the re- 
mark, "Yes, yes, we know — they all say so," and in 
their minds insincerity was added to the original offence. 
It has always been a proud stand for me, and which I have 
taken in a spirit of moral defiance, that a name not well 
enough grounded to be proof against malicious attacks 
was not worth maintaining ; but here I have found myself 
emphatically floored. 

And these annoyances have been more than counter- 
balanced by the sympathy I have excited in the minds of 
tender-hearted jjeoj^le who have jumped at the conclusion 
that I am a wounded soldier. Many a sympathetic look 
have I received, many a sympathetic word, on this suppo- 
sition, and have felt all the while as a conscientious scoun- 
drel niight be supposed to feel who is receiving goods 
under false pretences. One lady in the horse-cars one day 



264 PARTrnGTONIAN PATCHWOKK. 

asked me, in a very tender tone, Avhere I received my 
wound. I felt some <lelicacy about answering the ques- 
tion, not knowing whether she meant the particular bat- 
tle where it was received, or the locality of the woimd. 
I came to a consciousness of her meaning in time to say 
" Hackmetack Court," when she made a note of it in order 
to consult some map. 

I have been consulted re peatedly regarding the con- 
struction of ambulances, and the location of hospitals, fi'om 
ray supposed familiarity with them ; and with that weak- 
ness, if I may call it so, that desires consideration, I have 
given my opinion with some freedom, involving no con- 
fession of how my wound was I'eceived, it being taken for 
granted that it was in gallant service, as it undoubtedly 
was. I have been an object of unbounded admiration to 
the boys, who have invested me with all sorts of dignities 
and indignities, and I have overheard remarks — as boys 
are not over and above troubled with caution, or regard 
for the feelings of others — that have made my blood tin- 
gle, and my hand grasp my cane with the impulse that I 
would like to beat the young rascals — " Go it, yer crip- 
ple ! " being a fiivorite objurgation from their indecent lips. 
I was invited, by the authorities of a city I visited on the 
Fourth, to sit on the platform as one of the Union soldiers. 
I could scarcely persuade them that I had no claim to such 
distinction. 

But the greatest annoyance that has happened to me in 
consequence of my limp, was while I was on a visit to 
Spunkville, remarkable for its patriotic proclivities. It was 
late in the afternoon when I got off at the station, and I 
became aware of the presence of a large croAvd of people 
— larger by far than was to be expected in so small a 
place — and immediately, as I limped along the platform, 
I was the observed of all observers. Somethincc which I 



EXPEETENCES OF A LAME MAN. 265 

could not understand was said by some one, when a shout . 
went up that made the welkin ring. The crowd surged 
towards me, shouting in a most boisterous manner, and 
then I got it through ray head that the shouting and the 
crowd were for me. Could it be possible, I thought, that 
ray humble name had attained the degree of celebrity to 
entitle rae to any such consideration ? It was explained 
a moment after by a little gentleman, who bustled befoi'O 
me and taking a manuscript from his pocket began to read 
a welcoming address, styling rae " Colonel Frink," and as- 
suring me that my deeds had preceded me, and my name 
associated with patriotic daring had endeared me to the 
land, therefore the people had come out to receive me and 
give me a heart-offering of grateful regard. He beckoned 
to the people as he spoke, and they responded by a shout 
that eclipsed in volume and unanimity all their other 
shouting. Before he had a chance to begin a new para- 
graph, I begged to assure him that I was not Colonel 
Frink, that I never had been in battle, though I greatly 
regretted that I had not been, in order to be entitled in 
some small degree to the ovation which had greeted me, 
A voice in the crowd at this cried out, " Where'd you get 
yer game leg, then ? " to my hori'or and disgust, I saw in 
an instant where the mistake lay, and felt that I was in a 
hobble. The little man who had addressed me turned 
coldly away, and the people who gave me so warm a re- 
ception grew instantly cool, regarding me evidently as an 
impostor, and, as I thought, meditated some personal vio- 
lence for the part in deceiving them that I had innocently 
taken, I overheard the remark of one sturdy citizen that 
I was " an infernal humbug ; " and as I thought I saw in 
the eye of the multitude anything but a kind spirit, I 
left as speedily as possible for the hotel. The arrival of 
the real colonel by the next train diverted attention from 



266 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

me, and I escaped with merely my alarm. I subjoin the 
local item irom the Spunkville Bayonet, that chronicled 
my advent in the article describing the " Reception of 
Colonel Frink : " — 

" At this point [the arrival of the train in which I was] when ex- 
pectation was at its height, a tall, gaunt, weazel-faced individual 
stepped upon tlie platform, whose limping gait attracted the notice 
of the crowd, that cheered boisterously for their supposed guest. 
The impostor received the attention with all the impudence in the 
world, and displayed brass enough to supply any demand for that 
article. Our respected fellow-townsman, Stubbs, laid bare the de- 
ception, and the swindler sneaked away with the execration of the 
crowd. A more flagitious attempt to delude a patriotic people never 
was practised, and the disgraceful perpetrator may be sure that he 
is marked for a warm reception tlie next time he visits Spunkville." 

This is A'ery pleasant under the circumstances, and, in 
addition to rny present burden of ill, resulting from my 
lameness, here is a fine prospective deposit to be drawn 
upon in anticipation. With which lame and impotent 
conclusion allow me to close. 



BLESS YOU! 

There is a prayer of simple art, 

That from the tongue the readiest slips, 

That springs spontaneous from the heart, 
And breaks in blessing on the lijjs: 
Bless you I 

When joy's bright beam about us rests. 
As some dear hand our cup o'ertills, 

In this our gladness manifests. 

And with love's fondest cadence thrills : 

Bless you ! 



BLESS YOU ! 267 

The sympathy with others' woe 

That melts the heart to loving tears, 

No sweeter form of speech may know 
Than this the sorrowing spirit hears : 
Bless you! 

When weary limb and aching brain 

Attest the weight of busy care, 
How lifts the dulling cloud of pain 

To catch the accent of that prayer: 

Bless you ! 

In love's pure sacrament of bliss. 

When lip meets lip in fond embrace, 

Rises with blest approval this 

To give the chrism a holier grace : 
Bless you ! 

As failing pulse and dimming eye 
Proclaim some loved one's exit near, 

How like a whisper from on high 
Comes the faint murmur to our ear : 

Bless you ! 

But yet no language it may need ; 

A glance, as well as words, may pray ; 
All speech kind action may exceed, 

A smile a deeper sense convey : 
Bless you ! 

O, may our hearts be tuned aright. 

Unselfishly this prayer to feel, 
And fill our measure of delight 

By supplicating otJiers' weal : 
Bless you ! 



268 PARTINGTONIAJSr PATCHWOEK. 



SALT-WATER TROUT. 

The following reminds one very much of stories we 
have read of the Adirondacs : — 

"Ben and I rose at early morn, when the dew was on 
the grass, and snuffed the air with satisfaction, as we 
pulled on our boots. The river (Piscataqua), sparkling 
and bright in the early sunlight, flashed by, before us, on 
its way to the sea, for it was flood tide, and j)romised 
excellent sport. 

" 'Ben,' said I, ' 'tis a fine morning for fish,' 

" ' Yes, sir,' replied he, as he looked over towards Eliot, 
and his eye took in the clear outline of Mount Againenti- 
cus and a woman in a red dress on the opposite bank ; 
'good fishing to-day ; and there's moi'e fish in that river 
than in any stream of its size in this country.' 

" 'Take the clams, Ben,' said I, ' and we'll try 'em.' 

"I had the flexible rod I had bought of Banfield, 
charged to my account, that I kaew would tie up in a 
Lard knot before it would break, and lots of cunner hooks. 

"'Ben,' said I, ' where's the canteen?' 

"'All right, sir,' rejilied he, slapping his off side, and 
bringing the article round to view. 

" 'Nuff sed ; now for it,' as we reached the small wharf 
that jutted out below the bank. Opposite was Boiling 
Rock, now quiescent in the high tide, the full stream, like 
a man after dinner, moving as if reluctantly. There was 
a rij)ple of eddy in the water, that swirled away coquet- 
tishly, while a kingfisher chattered overhead on the limb 
of a tree. 

" ' My gracious ! ' said Ben, as he seated himself on top 
of a stone post. ' If I only had a gun, I'd stop that fel- 
low's music' 



" SALT-WATER TROUT. 269 

" ' And wherefore, O Ben ? ' I remonstrated, while ad- 
justing my line, that kinked terribly, so that I found 
some difficulty in getting it through the rings. ' Has he 
not a right to sing ? Indeed, he cannot help it. It is his 
nature to. Don't let any profane wish interpose here to 

mar the ecstasy of this glorious morning. D the line ! ' 

I said, in my vexation ; whereat Ben laughed. 

" ' Don't profane it, sir,' he said ; whereat I did not 
laugh, while the kingfisher flew away with a long shout of 
ornitliological delight. 

"All right at last, after half an hour's sweating, and 
throwing over the hook, baited with the seductive clam, I 
bobbed and bobbed for a bite. There came a positive 
nibble, at which I jerked. 

" ' Let 'im have it, sir,' said Ben, from the jDost. 

" This was needless advice, for the fish, whatever it was, 
took it itself, 1 baited again, and threw over, with the 
same result. 

"'If you jerk in that way,' said Ben, 'you'll pull his 
in'ards out, sir, afore you ketch him. Try him gently, sir.' 
Ben lighted his pipe as he spoke, and smoked away like a 
philosopher. 

"I was made happy a moment after in landing a three 
ounceperch on the wharf; and another and another followed, 
all of the same gigantic mould, whereat Ben laughed heartily. 

"'My gracious ! " said he ; 'you beat Parson Murray, up 
in the Highdrowndicks, higher'n a kite. He never see 
fishin' like that, you bet.' 

" I fancied Ben was slightly sarcastic. 

" ' Now,' said I, as I put on a whole clam, ' I'll show you 
fishing that will astonish you.' 

" ' I dessay,' said Ben, from the post, blowing out a 
cloud of smoke. 

"Down went the morsel to the bottom, which it no 
sooner touched than I had a bite. And such a bite ! The 



270 PAETINGTONIAIT PATCITVVOEK. 

rod in ray hand bent like a withe, and the hne whistled 
through the water as the struggling fish essayed to escape, 
now this vvay, now that way — now up, and then plunging 
heavily down. 

" ' Hold on ! ' cried Ben, from the post ; ' you've got him, 
sure. He must be a halibut ! ' He was very much ex- 
cited, but stuck to the top of the post. 'Give him play, 
sir, and you'll tire him out.' 

" I made a feint to pull him, and he again started, com- 
ing to rest again speedily m six fathom of water, from 
which I in vain endeavored to start him, my pole bending 
double as I tugged to draw him from the bottom; but 
he held on most tenaciously. At last, after a violent 
struggle, grown weary with the effort, the sweat streaming 
down my face, I laid down the rod and pulled the victim 
in, to Ben's great delight, hand over hand. 

" 'You've cotched him, sir, as sure as eggs ! ' said Ben 
from the post, who had not, I was sure, as I certainly had 
not, breathed for fifteen minutes, as I drew upon the wharf 
a splendid river trout, weighing, I should judge, three 
pounds, that, as I threw him down, flapped a half handful 
of gravel into my eyes with his tail. He was a noble 
speckled fellow, with horns on his head, and a mouth four 
inches wide, with which he had swallowed my hook. Such 
a i^air of expressive eyes I never saw in a trout before ; and 
as he turned them up to mine, there seemed almost a hu- 
man reproach in them, that melted me. 

" 'Ben,' said I, ' isn't that a monstrous trout?' 

" ' That's the king of 'em,' said Ben ; ' but they don't oall 
'em trout down here.' 

" ' What do they call 'em ? ' I asked, with much interest. 

" He gave a name. 

" Well, a fish is a fish, anyhow, whatever may be said to 
the contrary ; and if any one wishes to know what I caught, 
let him ask Ben." 



THE POOH BLIND MAN. 271 



THE POOR BLIND MAN. 

A POOR blind man besought ray aid, 
Feeling his way with a oi'ooked stick, 

Stepping as if of the earth afraid, 

And touching the pave with pensive lick. 

I held a penny before his eyes ; 

He could see no more than a dead man can, 
And I felt ray pity within me rise, 

For such a very unfortunate man. 

I took his hand and led him o'er 

The crossing where the mud was deep. 

And guided his steps where a bit before 
An Irishman had tried to sweep. 

He thanked me kindly, with rayless eye. 
And a tearful tone of cadence sweet; 

Just then a dog, that was going by. 

Smelt him to know were he good to eat. 

I could but mark the blind man's look 
As the canine smelt his brogans thick ; 

And I marked the capital aim he took 
As he gave that canine a damaging kick. 

Then the blind man chuckled in merry mood, 

As the dog yelped out his agony; 
But how he knew where the canine stood 

"Was more than I, with both eyes, could see. 

Just then came along a street horse-car, 

And the blind man hailed it, and oiFhe rolled, 

And I felt it on my consciousness jar, 
That I had been infernally sold. 



272 PABTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK:. 



MR. SPOTGAM'S TREAT. 

It was a habit that Mr. Spotgam contracted at Saratoga. 
He came home full of it, and used to make his brngs that 
he drank, at times, ten tumblers at a single standing! 
What, in Heaven's name ? the reader asks. The answer, 
Empire Spring Water. It was his weakness, — his weak- 
ness literally, — and he left, with the little strength he had, 
in three days. But his visit to Saratoga was an epoch in 
his life, and "when I was in Saratoga" became a "chronic 
afiectation " with him, as Mrs. Partington might say. Those 
who heard him tell the story of the ten tumblers of Em- 
pire Sprin.g Water invariably knocked with their knuckles 
on a table, or other sounding-board that might be near, 
which implied a measure of unbelief; but he stoutly per- 
sisted in the ten-strike. Bless you ! why, he was so fond 
of the )vater that he has gone to the spring twenty times 
in a day, till the little boy who drew up the diink learned 
to know him, and always had two tumblers ready drawn 
for him when he arrived, and stood ready to draw more 
should he want it, which of course he did. He never 
drank less than six tumblers. It was marvellous to him 
that some didn't like it ; but he had actually seen some 
make up faces at it, and others spit it out. It was mother's 
milk to him, and if he lived in Saratoga he should have his 
tea made of it. 

Spotgam boarded out. His snlary was not large, but he 
managed very respectably with not very extensive means. 
He kept cigars in his room, and had wherewithal to regale 
his friends when they came to see him. He was an oracle 
at table, and his visit to Saratoga had made him a man to 



ME. spotgam's treat. 273 

he looked up to. He quite put out the pipe of the ex- 
colonel, and the foreman of No. 27, who also boarded 
there, was nowliere. There was a constant rivalry among 
the seven young lady boarders for his chaperonage, and 
the one who succeeded in securing him for an evening to 
the theatre, or other place of amusement, was an object of 
envy with the rest foi- a week afterwards. 

After the fall cleaning was all done uj), Spotgam and the 
young ladies put their heads together, — they were always 
putting their heads togetlier in one way or another, — and 
a j)arty was soon announced, by cards and compliments, to 
take place on Spotgam's twenty-first birthday, the twelfth 
of September. The ladies at once were installed a com- 
mittee of arrangements, with occasional conferences with 
the giver of the entertainment, who, of course, left it en- 
tirely with them. There was subsequently a great deal 
of stir in the house, and Mrs. Miles, the landlady, who was 
an excellent cook, was early and late at work preparing for 
the treat. The invitations were sent out, and the various 
essentials sent in, and the bill amovmted to a formidable 
figure. But a man's twenty-first birthday doesn't happen 
more than once in a lifetime, and Spotgam contemned 
the expense. 

He was considerably anxious as the day approached, as 
he wished the matter to go off well. The Wiggins and 
Trotts had given treats that had set the neighborhood 
agog, and proved vital themes of conversation for many 
moons, and he wished the Miles party to eclipse them all. 
He set his wits to work to devise sometliing in which to 
excel them, and procured many delicacies they had not 
possessed. It was really no common corn-ball affair, but 
one that the papers Avould call recherche. 

Passing along through a street the day before the par- 
ty, Spotgam saw a label hanging over th>e neck of a bottle 
18 



274 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

by a window, "Saratoga Water — Empire Spring — for 
sale here." He immediately said to himself, " I must have 
some of that, sure ; " and, going in, he ordered that a half 
dozen bottles be sent up, " There," said he, chuckling to 
himself, " there is a matter in which the Wiggins and 
Trotts will be outdone. They know nothing of Saratoga ; 
and with a little Hock wine, hey ! " He almost capered at 
the idea; and it was an eclipsing feature for the rivals of 
Deal Court, so called because it was chiefly devoted to 
boarding-houses. 

When Spotgam came home in the evening, his first busi- 
ness was to see Bridget, the maid of all work, and ascer- 
tain if the water had come, as an anxious housekeeper 
might concerning a pump that had long been dry. She 
told him that it had, and that she had put it in a safe place 
in a closet which was not much used, that he well knew, 
and he went up stairs delighted. He would take them by 
surprise ; and when he sprung his Empire Spring Water 
upon them, it would strike them, he thought, as the spectator 
was struck at the engine trial, who received the whole 
stream of No. 11 with astonishment. How tlie Wiggins 
and Trotts would feel when they came to hear of it ! 

Well, tlie hissing, and fuming, and inviting, and prepar- 
ing all ended in the grand climax, — the treat, — and Spot- 
gam, in white kids and great affability, backed by his charm- 
ing coadjutors, received his guests like a prince ; and Deal 
Court wore a lively aspect on the eventful night of the 
twelfth of September. The entry lamp had an additional 
lustre, and the wax candles upon the parlor candelabras 
brilliantly reflected back upon each other, like two wits at 
a party disposed to be jiersonal. Mrs. Miles's red face in 
the kitchen looked immense with anxiety and heat, for that 
night was to be an eventful one in the annals of her house, 
and she felt its importance, to say nothing of a five-dollar 



MK. spotgam's treat. _ 275 

bill tbnt the giver of the treat had thrust into her hand, 
ehciting the remark from her tliat he was the"generousest 
creetur." Even Bridget looked luminous in new calico, 
with flowers as big as your hand, that she had lately re- 
ceived as a present. In short, everything was as it should 
be, and, like Saxe's briefless barrister, Spotgam said, " 'Tis 
well." 

The party was a delightful one, composed of the most 
judicious materials — a human punch, with just enough of 
the acid of sarcasm, and the spirit of wit and repartee, 
and the sweet of femininity, and the ice of etiquette, and 
the water — well, we haven't got to the water yet — noth- 
ing will do for such a compound but Empire Spring Water ; 
and Spotgam smiled to himself as he thought of the 
black quart bottles that waited almost impatiently for his 
simimons. Every one seemed jjleased, and such a clatter 
of delightful tongues had never been heard in Deal Court 
before. The spirit of the scene blazed in musical execu- 
tion to the melodies of Du-dah, Du-dah and Nelly Ely, 
and smacked like champagne in the delicate manoeuvres 
incident to Copenhagen. 

At length, wearied with pleasure, having exhausted all 
expedients and resources of fun, the party adjourned to the 
supper table, that groaned, as is customary with tables, 
with the weight of good things that oppressed it, like an 
alderman after a public dinner, where every one was in- 
vited to partake, and Mr. Spotgam did the honors of the 
table. The Wiggins and the Trotts were really nowhere. 
The variety, quality, profusion, all operated to place the 
treat in brilliant and exalted comparison v/ith all other 
treats that ever transpired in Deal Court. Everybody was 
delighted, and Mrs. Miles's boarders must thereafter take 
higher rank. 

At last Spotgam asked to be excused for one moment. 



2T6 PAETIJSTGTONIAN PATCHWOKK. 

He wished to introduce to the company a friend, of whom 
many of them had heard him speak, whose acquaintance 
he had made at Saratoga hist summer, a sparkling, pun- 
gent fellow that he believed they would all like. He would 
bring him in immediately. He retired, and a very quiet 
smile flitted over the features of those who were in the 
secret as he left the room. He came back very soon, 
bearing two black bottles under each arm and one in each 
hand. 

" Gentlemen and ladies," said he, apj)lying a corkscrew 
to the bottle before him, "this is the friend of whom I 
spoke, and I mistake in my guess if you do not regard him 
as a jewel of the first water, and this lesser individual is 
his companion. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Empire 
Spring Water, Esq., and this General Hock." 

When the bottles were all uncorked, he gave Bridget, 
who waited upon the table, the task to fill the glasses 
around the board with the fluids, which she did; then he 
proposed a toast to be drunk in the water, in order that he 
might witness the pleasure he was confident they would 
experience. He raised his glass to his lips, and quaffed it 
all off". His guests sipped, but none could accomplish 
more, immediately " dipping their nose in the Gascon 
wine," as if the other were unpleasant. 

"You will find the second drink far more pleasant," said 
he, filling another tumbler. "I found it so at first when I 
was at Saratoga. I always found the tenth tumbler," — 
hei-e there was a slight knock on the table, — " yes, I said 
the tenth tumbler, — the sweetest of any ; " he raised the 
tumbler to his lips, and tossed off the second. " I confess," 
continued he, " that it tastes better at the springs, but still 
it is very j^alatable." 

No one else dared venture upon the second, and Spot- 
gam saw the one grand hope of the occasion expire. It was 



MR. spotgam's teeat. 277 

to be the skeleton at his feast. He therefore ordered that 
Bridget clear away the glasses. The treat ended, and the 
party broke up, after more Copenhagen, and more twirling 
the platter, and more " Du-dah, Du-dah," at a late hour in 
tlie morning. 

"And, indade, 'twas a quare thing you did with the 
wather, sir," said Bridget to Spotgam next day, and her 
mouth retreated on both sides to a point beneath her ears; 
" mighty quare ! " 

" Ah, why ? " inquired he, with a slight tremor in his 
voice. 

" Indade, 'twas the forge wather, sir," she said, the ex- 
jDressive mouth reaching some distance behind the ears. 

" The forge water ? — spurious, eh ? — counterfeit ? " 
eagerly queried Spotgam. 

"'Twas the forge wather the young ladies got from the 
blacksmitli's shop, sir," said she, " to wash their purty faces 
in, and you got howld of the wrong bottles, sir." 

" That accounts for it, by Jove ! " said he, slajjping his 
knee. "I thought it tasted infernally nasty. I guess 
you'd better not say anything about it." 

Bridget, however, who had a keen relish for fun, found 
it a hard thing to keep. She had, unfortunately, a cousin 
living with the Wiggins, who was intrusted with the 
story under an injunction of secrecy, Avho in turn told it 
to a servant that lived with the Trotts under the same 
charge, and the result was, that in a sliort time the whole 
of Deal Court knew it, though no one could tell how it 
transpired. To be sure there was a grand laugh at Spot- 
gam's expense, and "J/r. Spotr/ani's TreaV became a 
proverb. Tlie worst of it was, that his reputation as a 
connoisseur in Saratoga water died out from that time, and 
lie is very careful to whom lie tells the story ahout the ten 
tumblers of Empire Spring Water, though at the mention 
of Saratoga he always looks as if he wanted to. 



278 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 



HOME IN VACATION. 

How still the house is ! All the noise and riot, 
That late our ears with fearful din distracted, 

Are now submerged in overwhelming quiet. 
And order reigns where chaos was enacted. 

Ah, blessed order ! we thy peace enjoying, 
Forget the recent source of our vexation. 

And while the tranquil time we are emi^loying, 
We bless the hapjoy season of vacation. 

No voices by the chamber stairs are calling ; 

No lawless hands on the piano drumming ; 
No teasing Ike his sisterhood is hauling; 

No screams for " Father ! " to his ear are coming ; 

No boisterous lungs in disputatious fretting ; 

No tart remark, no sharp recrimination ; 
No little rebel duty's claim forgetting ; 

No broken rules for stern examination. 

The books are on the shelves in nice condition, 
The music piled up in the proper places, 

The table-cloths are in exact position. 

And just the angle are the shells and vases. 

It is so quiet ! Not an echo hearing 

In all the rooms, from basement to the attic. 

We smile to realize the comfort cheering 
Of stillness so profound — bliss so ecstatic. 



HOME IN VACATION. 279 

But yet, amicl the turbulence and clatter, 

There mingled strains that tilled the heart with pleasure, 
Kernels of love mixed with the idle chatter, 

Bright grains among the dross we loved to treasure. 

Glad glances met our own each day returning, 
And faces with the soul's young sunlight glowing, 

And hearts with warm, impulsive fervor burning, 

Spoke out from lips with youth's own language flowing. 

Sweet melodies upon the air of even 

Woke the heart's tenderness to fondest dreaming. 
And lost in notes that seemed like tliose of heaven, 

Forgot were cares with which the earth is teeming. 

Altliough we prize the luxury of order, 

And think ourselves enriched the boon possessing, 

The ripless calm that overhangs our border. 
Purchased with loss of these is not a blessing. 

We sigh regretfully the past recalling. 

And crave disorder with the joys attending, 

For quiet wears to us a garb appalling. 

And peace thus gained is not worth the defending. 

Then welcome once again the wild commotion. 

The song, the shout, the dance, the roguish actions. 

Breaking to life the dull domestic ocean, 
By order's oft allowable infractions. 



280 PARTIXGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 



DISPOSING OF A CASE. 

There was a case in court wherein Mr. F. M. Pinto 
was to appear as a witness. He put on his best clothes, 
and brushed up his hair in order to give him an external 
semblance of 2^urity consonant with the inward integrity 
that filled his soul. His testimony was to fix the fact defi- 
nitely M'li ether the defendant was at a certain point at 
twenty-five or thirty minutes before or after a certain hour. 
Those who knew Pinto's disposition to exaggerate gave 
him advice enough to have guided any ordinary man, but 
Pinto was not an ordinary man. He was a little out of 
place, however, in a witness box, but put an excellent foce 
on it. 

" Pinto," said one, as his name was called, "now be sure 
and tell the truth." 

"Pjon't do it, Pinto," echoed another; " if you do they 
will be sure not to believe you." 

But he went on the stand, took the oath, and then 
looked down at the counsel awaiting the questioning. 

"Do you understand this case, Mr. Pinto?" asked the 
counsel. 

" I think I do, sir," replied Pinto ; " I was present when 
it was opened, and can testily — " 

"Not yet, sir; not yet," said the counsel. 

" When the incident occurred on which it is based were 
you present ? " 

" Of course I was ; Jim asked in half a dozen of us. 
Tfiere was Tom Grover, and Bill Jewett, and — " 

" That is not to the purpose, Mr. Pinto. Now tell- the 
jury the exact time when this happened." 



DISPOSING OF A CASE. 281 

" As nearly as I can remember, it was about eleven 
o'clock, because Tim Grover — " 

" No matter about Tim Grover. May it not have been 
twenty-five minutes past eleven?" 

"Yes, perhaps it might; but Bill Jewett — " 

"We will dispense with Jewett. What we wish to 
know is, whether Muggs, the defendant, was present at 
Jones's, at twenty-five minutes past eleven, or not? Can 
you swear that he was there at that time?." 

" Of course I can, Jim said — '' 

" No matter what Jim said. You can sit down." 

"Stay," said the counsel for the defendant, and he 
staid. 

" Mr. Pinto," said the counsel, " were you at Jones's, on 
the twentieth of March, at twenty-five minutes before 
eleven o'clock ? " 

« Yes, sir." 

" Are you sure about the hour ? " 

"Yes, sir." 

"Now tell the jury what you know about this case." 

"Jim Jones said he had a case of rare old gin, and asked 
lis in to try it ; and so Tim Grover and Bill Jewett — " 

" And Muggs ? " said the counsel for the plaintiff. 

" No, Muggs wasn't there then." 

" Well, when did he come in ? " asked the counsel. 

" He didn't come in at all." 

"But you were there at twenty-five minutes before 
eleven ? " 

"Yes." 

"And twenty-five minutes past eleven ?" said one of the 
jurymen, waking up. 

" Yes." 

"Explain yourself," said the court, 

" Why, your honor, Jim Jones had a case of gin, and 



282 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

Tim Grover, and Bill Jewett, and I went to his place 
about eleven o'clock — " 

" You said twenty-five minutes past, Mr. Pinto," said 
the judge, sternly, consulting his notes, 

" Twenty-five minutes before, your honor," said the coun- 
sel for the defence. 

" Well, gentlemen," said Pinto, " I was there from ten 
o'clock till twelve. 'Twould be impossible to open and 
dispose of a case in half an hour — " 

" But was Muggs there at all ? " asked the counsel for 
the defence. 

" Not that I saw." 

" Then what is the case you are trying to prove ? " asked 
the judge, severely. 

"The case of gin," said Pinto. 

" You may sit down, sir," said the judge. 



VAIN REGRETS. 

A SEEDY old beggar asked alms of me 

As he sat 'neath the shade of a wayside tree. 

He was beggared in purse and beggared in soul, 

And his voice betrayed a pitiful dole, 

As he sang a song, to a dismal pitch, 

With the burden, " If things was only sigh ! " 

" If things was only sich," said he, 

"You should see what a wonderful man I'd be; 

No beggar I, by the wayside thrown. 

But I'd live in a palace and millions own. 

And men would court me if I wei'e rich — 

As I'd be if things was only sich." 



VAIN EEGEETS. 283 

"If things was only sich," said he, 
"I'd be lord of the land and lord of the sea; 
I would have a throne and be a king, 
And rule the roast with a mighty swing — 
I'd make a place in Fame's bright niche ; 
I'd do it if things was only sich." 

"If things was only sich," said he, 

" Rare wines I'd quaff from the far countree, 

I'd clothe myself in dazzling garb, 

I'd mount the back of the costly barb. 

And none should ask me wherefore or which — 

Did it chance that things was only sich." 

" If things was only sich," said he, 
" I'd love the fairest and they'd love me ; 
Yon dame, with a smile that warms my heart, 
Might have borne with me life's better part, 
But lost to me, here in poverty's ditch. 
What were mine if things was only sich." 

Thus the old beggar moodily sung. 

And his eyes dropped tears as his hands he wrung. 

I could but pity to hear him berate. 

In dolorous tones, the decrees of Fate, 

That laid on his back its iron switch. 

While he cried, " If things was only sich." 

" If things was only sichi " — e'en all 

Might the past in sad review recall ; 

But little the use and little the gain, 

Exhuming the bones of buried pain. 

And whether we're poor or whether we're rich, 

We'll say not, " If things was only sich." 



284 PARTINGTONIAi^ PATCHWORK. 



EXTRACT FROM AN UNWRITTEN ROMANCE. 

" It was about seven bells when the true character of 
the corvetie was discovered, and there was immediate 
alacrity on board the privateer (Lively Bug) to get out of 
the way. All sail was made, and the canvas was wet, but 
to little advantage, for the corvette gained upon us, and 
soon her black hull, almost Avithin howitzer range, loomed 
up behind us. She had the British ensign at the peak, 
and presented a formidable appearance. She had not as 
yet fired a gun. but seemed bent on making an easy con- 
. quest by boarding us. 

" ' O for a breeze ! ' cried Captain Jo. Hatch, nervously 
walking the deck, and turning his eye towards his ap- 
proaching foe. 

" But the breeze did not respond to his asking, and the 
Lively Bug did not move at a pace in keeping with her 
name. 

" ' Mr. Cinder ! ' shouted the captain. ' Call Cinder, 
some of you ; ' which was done. 

" Cinder was the armorer, who thought the scene of his 
labors was below just then. As he j)ut his head above the 
hatch, the captain sung out, — 

" ' Cinder, I want the shank of the old anchor on deck in 
five minutes.' 

'"Ay, ay, sir,' said Cinder, as he disappeared, and in the 
time specified the shank, a heavy mass of iron, borne by 
four men, was on deck. 

" ' Mr. Tompion,' said the captain to the gunner of the 
Long Tom, ' I want three powder cartridges put into the 
gun.' 



EXTBACT FROM AN UNWHITTEN ROMANCE. 285 

" ' 'Twill bust her,' said Tomi^ion. 

"'Do as I bid you,' said the captain, sternly, and it was 
done, the crew instinctively drawing back, and Old Tom 
Trunnion saying, as he sat down on the windlass, ''Tisn't 
my ship, and the nnderwriters'U have to suffer.' 

" To our surprise, the captain then ordered the giinner 
and his men to hoist the shank of the anchor into the can- 
non, and then we thought the old man was mad, sure 
enough; but he appeared perfectly self-possessed. He 
called us aft. 

" ' Boys,' said he, ' I am not going to be taken by that 
vessel if good gunnery will save us. Be ready to obey all 
my orders. Point the gun to windward.' 

"We did so, and awaited the result with suspended 
breath. The corvette came up with us, till we could see 
the color of the shirts the men wore, when we heard our 
captain's voice say, — 

" ' Port your helm ! ' 

"He stood sighting the gun, and as the Lively Bug 
swung round, bringing the three masts of the corvette 
directly in range, he pulled the lanyard. 

" ' Bang ! ' went the gun, with a crash like thunder, and 
the caj^tain was seen going rapidly aft as the mass of iron 
darted from the muzzle of the gun. The Lively Bug 
trembled in every joint, and keeled over to the water's 
edge. An instant, and a terrific crash and yell on the cor- 
vette revealed what had been done, as all three of her 
masts fell over her side into the sea, and the single shot of 
her bow chaser whistled between our masts. 

" The wind began to freshen at this instant, and the Bug 
began to move rapidly through the water. For a few mo- 
ments we forgot the captain ; but on searching for him we 
found him on the cabin table, having been blown through the 
skylight. He was insensible for a time ; but when he came 



286 PATINGTOIiaAlT PATCHWOBK. 

to and saw the effect of his shot, he ordered an attack on 
the corvette, and, with the wind now in our favor, we so 
manoeuvred that in fifteen minutes the British corvette 
Snapdragon, of twenty-four guns, was prize to the Yankee 
privateer Lively Bug ! 

" The medal awarded by Congress for this gallant ex- 
ploit is in existence, and at pi'csent in possession of an un- 
cle of the narrator, to be seen by any one who desires." 



TRUE FAITH. 

Old Reuben Fisher, who lived in the lane, 

Was never in life disjjosed to complain ; 

If the weather proved fair, he'd thank God for the sun, 

And if it were rainy, with him 'twas all one ; — 

"I have just the M'eather I fancy," said he, 

" For what pleases God always satisfies me." 

If trouble assailed, his brow was ne'er dark, 

And his eye never lost its happiest spark. 

" 'Twill not better fix it to gloom or to sigh ; 

To make the best of it I always shall try ! 

So, Care, do your worst," said Reuben with glee, 

"And which of us conquers, we shall see, we shall see." 

If his children were wild, as children will prove, 
His temper ne'er lost its warm aspect of love ; 
" My dear wife," he'd say, " don't worry nor fret ; 
'Twill all be right with the wayward ones yet; 
'Tis the folly of yoiith, that must have its way; 
They'll penitent turn from their evil some day." 



TKUE FAITH. 287 

If a name were assailed, he would cheerily say, 
"Well, well; we'll not join in the cry, any way; 
There are always two sides to every tale — 
And the true one at last is sure to prevail. 
There is an old rule that I learned when a lad, — 
' Deem every one good till he's proved to be bad.' " 

And when in the meshes of sin tightly bound, 

The reckless and luckless mortal was found, 

Proscribed by every woman and man, 

And put under rigid and merciless ban, 

Old Reuben would say, with sympathy fraught, 

" We none of us do half as well as we ought." 

If friends waxed cold, he'd say with a smile — 
" Well, if they must go. Heaven bless them the while ; 
We walked a sweet path till the crossing ways met, 
And though we have parted, I'll cherish them yet; 
They'll go by their way and I'll go by mine — 
Perhaps in the city ahead we shall join." 

There were sickness and death at last in his cot. 

But still Reuben Fisher in sorrow blenched not : 

" 'Tis the Father afflicts ; let Him do what He will ; 

What comes from His hand can mean us no ill ; 

I cheerfully give back the blessing He lent. 

And through faith in the future find present content." 

Then he lay on his death-bed at last undismayed ; 
No terror had death at which he was afraid; 
" Living or dying, 'tis all well with me. 
For God's will is my will," submissive said he. 
And so Reuben died, with his breast full of grace. 
That beamed in a smile on his time-furrowed face. 



288 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 



A BIT OF OBITUARY. 

THE LATE EVERMORE SMOOTH. 

The demise of this distinguished man affords me oppor- 
tunity to speak of his many virtues. He had for seventy 
years occupied a prominent place in the popular eye, during 
which time he had never refused to serve the public in any 
capacity that jjromised to pay. When any great question 
came up on which the people divided, his decision was 
marked, because it had been arrived at by the slow pro- 
cess of culling the opinions of others, and selecting those 
which would be likely to prove successful, and therefore 
he was a safe juan to follow. In politics he forever sought 
to be on the winning side ; and when, as sometimes hap- 
pened through the fickleness of public opinion, that the 
weaker became the stronger, he ever had the candor to ad- 
mit his error, and exert as much haste as possible in get- 
ting again with the majority, making up by his zeal the 
mistake of i^osition. He was zealous as a politician, and 
though he never attempted to coerce a voter, it was always 
understood that if any in his employ voted against him, 
their places were vacant, thus leaving their fortune in their 
own hands and silencing all claims of injustice. When the 
war of rebellion broke out, he was one of the first to volun- 
teer, as a contractor, and did distinguished service in that 
field of duty. Before the close of the war, having made 
all he could out of it, he retired from the field, sick of vio- 
lence. His health was imi^aired, and deeming that safety 
lay in the church, he joined a respectable organization of 
that description, the stock in which immediately went up 
fifty per cent. He was inspired by feelings of the grandest 



A BIT OF OBITUARY. 289 

benevolence, and his name was always mentioned when he 
gave away anytliing, as an inducement to others. Plis 
mission was to visit the widow and the jfiTtherless, which 
he strictly fulfilled, generally after the fatherless were in 
bed, as he did not wish to make his virtue too ostentatious 
by going in the daytime. He loved to take the widows 
by the hand and listen to their wants and relieve them ; 
but as there were a good many widows in his society, the 
fund for each was small. He was an uncompromising op- 
ponent of sin and sinners — never forgiving either. When 
he read the injunctions regarding forgiveness, he always 
read them with a reservation, and insisted that the forgive- 
ness as we forgive, in the Loi'd's prayer, was wrongly 
translated. Being a person of influence, this M'as the view 
taken of it by nearly everybody in the parish, except the 
infidels. So with the golden rule: "Do as you are done 
by" was adopted as the proper translation, at the sugges- 
tion of Mr. Smooth, the sentiment of which he faithfully 
exemplified in his life. In his business dealings with his 
fellow-men, this was especially his creed. He bought and 
sold, and was never known to make a trade that did not 
turn in his own fiivor; hence he made much lucre, and 
illustrated in his case the truth of the scriptural assurance 
regarding the love of money. He made no new friends, 
and as he never had any old ones, his list of visitors Avas 
not troublesome. His poor relatives were not tolerated ; 
be regarded poverty as a crime, and washed his hands of 
all complicity with it that might attach by recognizing 
them. He was a patron of letters, and gave a Webster's 
Unabridged Dictionary, that he had bought at auction, to 
his native place, on condition that the town clerk should 
read a chapter from it each town meeting day; but the gift 
was declined. As a connoisseur of art he stood high, and 
gave his preference for Jones, the house dauber, over 
19 



290 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

Raphael as portrait painter. Mr. Evermore Smooth, 
though removed fi-om our midst, we shall long recall by 
his majestic presence and the peculiarities that distin- 
guished him. He was about five feet three inches in 
height, and was wont to make his presence felt by the ter- 
rific manner in which he blew his nose. Alas, that we 
shall hear those echoes no more! Peace to his ashes; and 
that they may not be lost, which would greatly grieve him 
if it should happen that they were, his heirs have erected 
a granite obelisk above them. 



A COUNTEY RAINY DAY. 

Up from the river* sweeps the rain. 
Over the field and over the wood, 
And the fretful wind, with a note of pain, 
Sobs and murmurs a sad refrain. 
Responsive to the angry flood. 

O, the sight for impatient eyes, 
Scanning the desolate, di'eary day, 

With its drenched earth and leaden skies, 

To see the misty clouds arise 

That sln-oud the hills there far away. 

I hear the plashing torrent pour. 

And listen with a sense of dread ; 
There's bodily misery in the roar. 
That wakens mental torture sore, 
Till all of sweet content has fled. 

* Piscataqua, at Newington. 



A COUNTRY EAINY DAY. 291 

Drip and drip from yonder eaves — 

The whole day long 'tis dripping there ! 
There's a shivering sound in all the leaves, 
And the feeling the wakeful soul receives 
Is one akin to deep despair. 

The poultry in the barn-yard stand, 

Damp and cheerless, with drooping quills ; 

They see no promise in all the laud, 

Or joy that they can understand 

Through this grand culminate of ills. 

That crower never will crow again, 

That hen never exalt her lay ; 
Their ardor is damped by the falling rain. 
And they seem to feel, it is very plain, 

Disgusted with the sloj^py day. 

The swallows seek the sheltered place, 

High up there on the beams of the barn 
And " touch and go " they flit their race, 
Showing their young, with tender grace, 
The useful lesson they must " larn." 

The cattle on the barn-floor smoke, 

— A practice they are here allowed — 
While all the boys, unhindered, joke. 
And " Uncle George " * puts in his spoke, 
The jolliest among the crowd. 

He cares not though the day be wet ; 
" What is the use," he says, " to cry ? 

* A true c :)untry pliilosopher, who, when the skies are the black- 
est, always predicts that it is '• coming off." 



292 PAKTINGTONIAIsr PATCHWOKK. 

'Twill be fair weather, some time, yet — 
'Tis not a bit of use to fi*et, 

Let the weather be wet or dry." 

The croakers indoors sadly growl 

At hopes thus gloomily overcast; 
The answering wind sets up a howl, 
And the rain comes down like a water-fowl, 
Struck by the north-east chilling blast. 

I liear the struggling of the spout, 
As it outpours its yeasty flood ; 
I hear the hay-press workers shout. 
And see Hodge driving the cattle out 
Through j)Ools of liquefying mud. 

O Patience ! what a virtue thou ! 

I feel thy need in all my bones ; 
John Banyan yonder in the slough 
Was no worse ofi' than I am now, 

Hearing these angry tempest tones. 

Roar out, ye children on the stair, 
And let your voices do their best; 

We'll make believe the day is foir, 

And try to mitigate despair, 

Though all our trying prove a jest. 

Alas ! alas ! 'tis even so ; 

We cannot banish this one pain; 
The frisky winds must have their blow, 
And all the racks must overflow, 

That hold the bottles of the rain. 



SIDEWALK OPERA. 293 



SIDEWALK OPERA. 

It is wonderful how infectious opera is. Whole neigh- 
borhoods will be bewitched by it ; nnd men and women, in 
pursuing the quiet avocations of life, will become operatic 
in spite of themselves. Men ask the price of a beefsteak 
with a bravura, which is replied to by a cavatina ; the 
morning salutation becomes a duet, and ai'ias and ro- 
manzas are common things. Thus an opera of house- 
holders, compelled to shovel off in front after a snow- 
storm, was quite amusing. 

Scene, SldeioalJ^:. jSnoio mowitains high. 

Smith, Beowtst, Jones, and Robinson {queerly cos- 
tumed, armed loith shovels, prepared to level the drift). 
Quartette. 

Here we are to stand the bi'unt : 

We must shovel off in front. 

Now with blades to cleave the snow, 

In we go, and in we go. 

Throwing the invading drift 

Far as human nerve can lift. 

In, boys, in, and do not stay ; 

It will be as good as play. \_They pitch in. 

Smith {resting on his shovel). 

Whew ! 'tis rough nnd tough enough : 
I'm not made of seasoned stuff. 
I can't stand this fierce employ: 
I'll knock off, and find a boy. 



294 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

Brown, Jones, micI Robinson {resting on their shovels). 
Trio. 

Ah ! peccavi do you cry ? 
So soon from the toil to fly ? 
Can you thus the joy forego 
Of this fresh and healthy glow? 
Stay: thinl'^ better of it, Smith, 
Be a man of nerve and pith. 

Smith {shoulderivg his shovel, and beckoning to a hoy 
about forty years old). Bass. 

My hope to feel the glow is dim ; 

Therefore I resign to him. \_Exit. 

[Brown, Jones, and Robinson resume shovelling.'] 

Brown {resting on his shovel, and wiping his face). 

By George ! this '11 try the back : 
I thought I felt a muscle crack ; 
And, though I feel all right and brisk, 
I don't dare too much to risk. 
Therefore I conceive it best 
To call a boy to do the rest. 

Jones and Robinson {resting on their shovels). Duet. 

Ha, ha ! thus the toil you shirk. 
While we stick and do the work. 
Men of pluck, we'll trophies show 
Of our struggle with the snow. 

Brown {shouldering his shovel, and calling another boy 
of some fifty summers and forty-nine vnnters), Id Bass. 

I will leave you nil tlie fun 

Of hope achieved and victory won. \_Mxit. 



SIDEWALK OPERA. 295 

[Jones and Robinson resume shovellmg.'] 

Jones {resting on his shovel, and putting/ his hand wildly 
to his head). 

Ah ! that horrid vertigo ! 

I was fearful 'twould be so. 

Round and round things seem to spin : 

I declare I must cave in. 

Robinson {resting on his shovel). Solo. 

Thus they drop from out the ring, 
Tender as the buds of spring ; 
Leaving me here all alone 
To shovel on, while they have flown. 

Jones (shoiddering his shovel, and calling a hoy of about 
thirty-five years). Tenor. 

'Tis rather " going back," I know ; 

But vertigo now makes me go. \_Exit. 

[Robinson resumes shovelling.'] 

Robinson (resting on his shovel, and looJdng at about 
twenty feet of drift he has got to loork through). 

Faith, I think I'd best give o'er : 
My dexter hand is very sore, 
My hair and eyes are full of snow, — 
I guess I'll have the verti-^o. 

Robinson {shoiddering Jvis shovel, andcaUitig a boy about 
tioentyfive). 2d Tenor. 

Here, my lad : just put this through ; 

I'll leave the glory all to you, \^£Jxit. 



296 PARTIXGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

Quartette by Pat, Phelim, Terence, a/?c? Mick, with 
»hovel accompaniment. 

Ah, begorra! but this is a good job for us, onnyhow : 
Blessings on the slinow-storrum that kicked up sich a 

lovely row ! 
With the worruk half done by the gintlefolk, who broke 

down 'fore they did it, 
Laving us to charge what we're a mind to, by the same 

token ; and we'll do that, you'd better belave, 

befoie we've done wid it. [.They shovel. 



MY FIRST FUDDLE. 

Don't smile, readers, and look at each other, and touch 
elbows, and Aviuk, on reading my title, as though it were a 
nucleus of infinite "fuddles" that followed it like the train 
of a comet, for it was not so. I received that day a lesson 
which I have always remembered — a lesson that came to 
me through pain and mortification and sorrow, and wrought 
deeply into a heart not much depraved then, however the 
world h:is hardened and corru])ted it since. Prnctical les- 
sons are the best, if rightly applied. Were the first lesson 
in tobacco-chewing cherished as it should be, there would 
be few tobacco-chewers, as it is only by persistence that 
human repugnance to the weed can be overcome. So 
would it be with drinking, were men wise. My first lesson 
in "fuddle" was my lat^t. iVnd this v/as tlie way it hap- 
pened. 

" Penhallow's Field " was a great resort for ball-players, 
in old times, in our town, and every half holiday and 



MY FIRST FUDDLE. 297 

Fast Da,y a band of merry players Avere very certain to be 
there. Penhallow's Field lay just before our door — a fine 
turfy plain at that time, though now streets and houses 
profane the precinct once sacred to athletic exercise and 
roistering mirth. At times, older boys would bring to aid 
the spirit of base a baser spirit, that would have a contrary 
effect to that intended, for instead of the healthy glow and 
animation imparted by the sport, the languid eye and lag- 
ging gait betokened a dulled spirit and physical prostra- 
tion ; or else the flushed cheek and fierce glance bespoke 
the i^reseuce of an unclean demon — lacking but the power 
to rend the possessor, like the spirits among the tombs — 
that even then showed signs of turbulence and wrath, and 
wakened quarrelsome echoes upon the peaceful air of Rock 
Pasture, of which Penhaliow's Field formed a pait. 

I have since looked with mucli interest for these latter 
individuals, but they have passed along life's highway and 
gone beyond, leaving no sign. The habits of their youth 
probably foreshadowed the habits of their maturity ; they 
died, and that was the end of them, so far as earth was 
concerned. Good fellows they were, all of them, full of 
life, and generosity, and warm-heartedness, and my heart 
took to them ; I watched their older words as they fell, 
in not very choice form, and learned them for repetition, 
till I saw their folly. 

But to my " first fuddle." I never shall forget the Fast 
Day afternoon when it occurred — warm, glorious, and 
green — as 7" was, in the verdancy of ten summers. It 
comes to me, a commingling of base, big boys, molasses 
candy, gingerbread, hard-boiled eggs, egg-nog, and pepper- 
mint cordial, the latter largely preponderating. The egg- 
nog had all been drunk, and most of the eatables disposed 
of\ when a new expedient was devised for a finide to the 
hallowed day. Such small boys as were near were sum- 



298 PARTINGTOIsriAN PATCHWORK. 

moned, and the proposition was made to them that they 
should have all the candy there was left if they would drink 
the balance of the peppermint cordial. Tempting bait! 
No wonder there was a fall about that time, because human 
nature was weak, and the cordial sweet and very strong. 

This first step in the lesson resulted in many irregular 
steps thereafter, before night. The insidious cordial found 
its way through every vein of ray body, with overwhelm- 
ing power, darting with a lambent fire over nei've and 
brain, and making my young head unsteady with half-de- 
lirious dreams and diabolical hallucinations, I remember 
the whirl of excitement that everything seemed to be in. 
The grass had become very irregular in its surface, and I 
found myself ste})ping up often to surmount the hillocks 
that were rising before me; the fence in front of our house 
had become suddenly serpentine, wriggling along its entire 
length, like a big snake, and I remember that the gate had 
contracted, because I struck both sides in subsequently 
attempting to pass through it. I saw more than fifty grin- 
ning faces around me, though they could have belonged to 
but eight boys ; and they seemed all dancing an infernal 
measure in a cabalistic ring, with me for a centre, and bony 
fingers pointed at me with liorrid derision, till in the whirl 
I fell down. But I had no suspicion of what was the mat- 
ter with me, and got up again. Then came the experience 
of the gate mentioned above, I saw my brothers, as I en- 
tered the door, look at each other and laugh. They knew 
what it all meant, but they said nothing. 

Amidst it all I retained a self-consciousness that sub- 
dued the delirium, and a sense of duty ran through my 
wildest vagai-y. Above all was the impression that I 
had to go about a mile awny, around the old North Mill 
Pond, and get a pair of 'nouts that had hocn left tliere to 
be repaired ; and I started off to perform the task, with a 



MY FIKST FUDDLE. 299 

decided idea th;it a more rough and uncomfortable road I 
had never travelled. This was before Jordan had put in 
its claim for special severity. How I got over it I never 
really knew, but found myself, some time after, seated on 
a shoemaker's bencli making free with the hammers of 
the workmen, pounding upon lapstones, and taking great 
liberties with awls, lasts, and knives, that lay within reach, 
kicking the bucket containing the wax, and committing 
other outrages, as the auctioneer says, "too numerous to 
mention." The men touched their noses significantly, and 
winked at each other, and looked, as I thought, very silly ; 
and I remember that I, with more than ten-year-old wis- 
dom, told them they were acting like " infernal fools." 

I got up to go home, and took a path straight for the 
pond, with a vague impression that I was to fonl the 
stream. As I reached it, however, my knees failed me, 
and 1 fell pronely upon the shore, in ignominious help- 
lessness. Were any being to have stood by my elbow and 
urged my acceptance of the universe, or any other tract 
of territory, on the condition that I got up and walked, I 
should not have been able to do it. Utterly helpless; and 
yet amid it all a light broke upon me that revealed the true 
state of the case, so that when the men who had watched 
me from the window, came down to me, and asked what 
was the matter, I responded with an honesty worthy of an 
older head, " I'm drunk ! " 

They took me up very- tenderly and carried me to the 
house where they lived. And here memory recalls a be- 
nevolent face encircled by a white cap border, a blazing 
wood fire over which a tea kettle is simmering, a Dutch 
oven containing a quantity of bubbling hog's fat, and a 
large milk-pan full of douglmuts by the side of the fire- 
place. I remember that venerable figure standing by my 
side as I sat by the fire, with kindness and sympathy upon 



800 PARTINGTOXIAlSr PATCHWOEK, 

her foce, and a cup of warm water in her hand, which she 
urged me to drink. I remember, too, what followed — a 
nansea — a .spasm — and a milk-pan full of doughnuts 
spoiled forever ! 

My brother Bob came across the pond in a boat and fer- 
ried me home, and still before n:ie is the scene that await- 
ed me — my mother's and sister's tears, my grandmother's 
pitiful gaze, as if an angel looked through her beautiful 
eyes, my fither's grave and sorrowful earnestness, my 
brother's mirth. He had got over his first fuddle some 
time before. 

Well, there I sat, when I got home, the centre of inter- 
est. Never was a little fellow of ten, clothed in no very 
sweet habiliments, an object of more consideration, and 
never did shame weigh more heavily on mortal con- 
science than on mine, with the feel of those eyes upon me. 
I braced myself up with a tipsy resolution that I would 
brave it out. The silence was painful, and I essayed to 
break it with a remark ; but the remark, like Macbeth's amen, 
stuck in my throat. My tongue seemed as big as two ordi- 
nary beef tongues, and filled my mouth full. I couldn't 
ai'ticulate for the life of me. I gave that up, but attempted 
to look unconcerned. It was a lamentable failure; for the 
first thing I saw was iny father's benign and soi'rowing look, 
— sorrow without reproach, — that sank into my soul, and 
remains there till this day, more permanently than though 
enforced by a hurricane of woi'ds. His was no temper to 
storm. The elements of gentleness and kindness were so 
developed in him, there was no room for anger, or for any 
harsher feeling than sorrow. That look was so full of dis- 
appointment, and regret, and grief, that encounter it again 
I would not for the world ; and gathering myself up the 
best way I could, I crawled off to my little bed in the 
attic to sleep off my first fuddle, and, if possible, a reraem- 



MY FIRST FUDDLE. 301 

brance of tlie mortification I felt. The first I accom- 
plished, but the latter I have never succeeded in doing, 
though more than forty years have since swept over me 
their fates of good and evil. That old man's gaze has 
never left my mind, and even as I write I recall it. He 
gave me no lecture besides this — no homily on sobriety, 
no expostulation, no threatening. As the eye of man is 
said to be able to check the fiercest madman, so was the 
unclean spirit in me subdued by a look, and was from that 
moment dethroned. 

I tell this in no vain-glorious spirit of boasting, I tell it 
in no "I am holier than thou mood," but give it as a single 
example of the good effect of a good influence timely ex- 
erted. I do confess me to a liking for fluids, however, and 

when my friend Colonel levelled his glass to me at 

the Ancients' dinner, and smiled in the urbane manner 
iisual with him, I could not avoid sipping a little response ; 
besides, I have not entii-ely conquered my tenderness for 
cider, especially when it comes commended as a legal 
beverage by the solemn enactment of the state. 



Little Winnie, with his cheeks red and glowing, was 
met by a kind old clergyman, who stooped down and pat- 
ted him on his head, saying, " Well, my little man, what 
makes your cheeks so red ? " The bright eyes looked up 
laughingly. " I s'pose," said he, "'tis 'cause they are red 
hot." 



302 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 



SAN GAREE'S RIDE. 

I'll tell you a tale, if you'll list to me, 
Of the ride that was rid by San Garee, 
On a night in the K. N. Fifty-Five: 
There are many witnesses alive 
Who were on the spot the thing to see. 

He said to his friend, "The constable's come, 

But, as you'll see, I'm up to traj? ; 

They think they've wholly stopped our rum 

By cutting off the tavern's tap. 

I'll show 'em a trick worth two of that, 

For I'll away to the opposite flat, 

Ready to ride to Medford town 

And bring the real ' critter' down, 

In spite of the tyrannous Maine law's frown ! " 

Then he said good night, and a jug he took. 
And crossed the bridge that spanned the brook, 
Just as the moon, half over the bay, 
Shed its beam where a hay-cart waiting lay — 
A phantom cart, with slats upright. 
Through which the moon shone still and bright, 
And a huge black hulk of a shadow was cast 
On the fence, as San Garee hurried j^ast. 

A clatter of hoofs rang through the town, 

Lickity-cut, at a terrible pace, 

And the oldest stagers in the place 

Vowed that such riding tliey'd never known : 

Tliat was all ! and yet from his mission that night, 

A dozen men ere mornino- were tio;ht! 



SAN gaeee's ride. 303 

It was ten by the villnge clock 

When lie crossed the bridge into Medford town. 

Pie smelt the fragrance of the dock, 

And heard the hum of the 'stillery dam, 

And the sound of a distant front door slam. 

As folks to tlieir naps were settling down ; 

And he was fost asleep in his bed, 

The one on whom San Garee did call, 

Who filled his jug with the fluid red, 

And didn't mind the law at all. 

The rest is soon tokl. He came as he went, 
With no policeman on the scent, 
His prize securely lashed to his side. 
That ere he started he twice had tried. 
Dashing along through road and lane 
With eager heart and urgent rein ; 
And under the trees, by the river's brink, 
Stopping only to take a drink ! 

So on that night rode San Garee, 

And so through the night his horses' heels 

To wakeful ears made noisy appeals, — 

Appeals that mocked curiosity ; — 

A clatter in darkness that passed by the door. 

As homeward his trophy the night rider bore ! 

Now, 'mong the runimest things that are past, 

Recounted often in circles fist, 

In hours of sport, and mirth, and fan, ^ 

They tell the story with shouts of glee, 

How the Maine-law people were done 

By the midnight ride of San Garee. 



304 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 



THE VICTIM OF INVITATIONS. 

Mr. Tott was a very excellent man, so everybody said ; 
was largely social and capable of much enjoyment, loved 
the good tilings of the world, and had a thousand friends ; 
but he was unhappy. He was haunted by a demon. Not 
by a thing of "gristly bone," but a shadowy demon that 
ran in and out of his mind like the worms in the brain of 
"Alonzo the Brave," sung in the ballad, but not so visible 
as were those interesting reptiles, working the very mis- 
chief with him. This was exceeding sensitiveness. He 
not only shrank from ])utting himself forward, but would 
not allow others to do it for him. He hung back continu- 
ally and became a man, with timidity, like a garment, cling- 
ing to him. He was in a constant dread all the time, lest 
he should be singled out for some distinction. Pai-ticular- 
ly he dreaded invitations to dinner. He was glad when 
others got invitations, and loved to hear the music of knife 
and fork that came to him from a distance, and it gave 
liim pleasure to look in through open doors revealing long 
lines of pleasant faces by the table ; but he was never to 
be found where men met to meat. He was social, but 
couldn't mingle with his fellows except in the street, or in 
places where eating was not involved. lie once came very 
near being seduced by an invitation to a lobster salad; 
but though, next to virtue, he loved lobster salad, he gave 
il up just as he had made up his mind to go. He couldn't 
account for this timidity — nobody could — and he was 
very miserable. 

It is always the case that that which we most dread will 
happen to us. A man that dreads fire is more apt to have 



THE VICTEM OF INVITATIONS. 305 

his house burn than one who caves nothing about it; one 
who dreads dogs always has a regiment of them to annoy 
him around his house; and I knew a man who had a 
mortal antipathy to bears, that was chased for three days 
in State Street by the brokers. 

This is a very queer fact. So, as poor Tott dreaded in- 
vitations to dine out, did they come ujDon him. Every- 
body invited him to dinner, and ten thousand lies did he 
invent in the course of the year to evade these invitations. 
Manyof liis inventions were ingenious and original. With 
one he had "just eaten," when he was as gaunt as a fam- 
ished wolf; with another, a "previous engagement " pre- 
vented him ; and with another, a friend was " coming to 
dine "with him." Like all liars, he at last got found out. 

" Tott," said Smith, one day, meeting him in the street, 
" come and dine with me to-day. Got some fine birds, — 
woodcock, — I know you like 'em ; and, look here, some 
of the best wine you ever drank." 

Tott's mouth Avatered at the bill of fire ; but his difii- 
dence came over him, and he replied, — 

" Can't think of it ; I'm engaged to dine with Brown. 
Thank'ee for your invitation, though, just as much. Good 

by." 

Tott turned away, vexed with himself for refusing, when, 
just as he had turned the corner, he met Brown. 

"Tott," said Brown, shaking him warmly by the hand, 
"glad I've met with you. I want you to dine with me to- 
day. Banfield, up in New Hampshire, has just sent me 
down some salmon trout, — prime fellows, — fresh and 
clean — eh, boy ! — that's your sort. Will you come ? Say 
yes." 

Tott trembled. It was a proposition sufficient to tempt 
an anchorite. It was hard to resist; but his old habit 
came over him, and he replied, — 
20 



306 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

"Faith, Brown, it's unfortunate, but I've just engaged to 
take dinner with Smith. Devilish unfortunate to have 
two such chances at once. Hope you'll liave a good time. 
Farewell." 

They parted. Later in the morning Tott dropped into 
the office of a friend. 

"Ah, Tott," said he, "'tis getting near dinner time; I 
should be glad to have you take dinner with me." 

" Can't possibly," replied he ; " I expect a friend from 
New York to dine with me to day." 

At this moment Smith entered. 

" My friend Tott, I must insist on your going home to 
dine with me. Wife and the girls will be glad to see you. 
Come ! " 

"But," said Tott, "you remember my preA'ious engage- 
ment — " 

" What, to dine with Brown ? Nonsense ! Come 
along." 

" He just told me he expected a friend from New York 
to dine with him," said the friend, winking at Smith. 

Poor Tott was cornered ; but putting a good face on it, 
he insisted upon it that he was to dine with Brown, and 
that Brown had just returned from New York, and so of 
course he was all straight. 

At that moment the door opened, and Brown entered. 

" Hello !" said he; "all right; now, Smith, just release 
him from his engagement, will you, and let him come and 
dine with me ? Do, there's a good fellow." 

"Why, he told me he had engaged to dine with you." 

"Gentlemen," said Tott, in despair, "you must both ex- 
cuse me, as I am engaged to a sit-down with a friend at 
Parker's." 

He went out, and that day dined on clam chowder and 
a douohnut at Learned's. 



THE VICTIM OF INVITATIONS. 307 

Poor fellow ! thereafter he was spotted, and every one 
invited him ten times more pertinaciously than ever to din- 
ner. He was in constant dread, and at times became very 
nearly drawn into a dinner. 

A pale-faced, grave-looking gentleman, holding a posi- 
tion under government, came in one day about dinner time, 
and approaching Tott, asked him if he would go with him 
to be a witness in a case that affected him vitally. 

" You know," said the grave gentleman, " that I was 
sick last winter, and a word from you will substantiate a 
matter that is now involved in a little doubt. Will you 
go ? " 

" Certainly," said Tott, putting on his coat ; " where are 
we to go '? " 

« To City Hall," was the reply. 

Soon they arrived at a point near that locality, when the 
grave gentleman conducted Tott into Hall's eating-house, 
redolent with the odors of turtle soup, and turning to Tott, 
he said, — 

" What I want you to witness is the excellent quality of 
this turtle soup and my own excellent appetite. Sit down 
and take some. Mr. Hall, my friend Tott." 

"I vow," said Tott, "it is very unfortunate, but I dined 
at Parkei's not more than fifteen minutes ago, and couldn't 
eat another mouthful if I should die." 

His mouth watered as he spoke, and the tears gathered 
in his eyes ; but he had spoken, and wishing the grave 
gentleman a good appetite, and bidding Hall an aftection- 
ate farewell, went back to his tumbler of cider and piece of 
pie at Loring's. 

Tott grew emaciated and weak daily under his invita- 
tions, and so nervous that he sometimes refused before he 
was asked. Every one who approached him he thought 
was about to invite him to dinner. One day a stranger 



308 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

ruet him in tlie street and inquired the way to the Treraont 
House. 

" Thank you kindly, sir," said he ; " but I am positively 
engaged to-day, to dine •with my friend Everett. O, ask 
pardon. (Tremont House ?! There it is, sir." 

There was a vacant chrm-, not long after this, in Tott's 
domicile, and a jury of twelve grave men sat on a coat and 
hat found on Charlestown Bridge, who brought in the ver- 
dict that as Tott was not to be found, it was inferable from 
the vacant hat and coat that he had slipped away, by water 
or otherwise, to avoid being invited to dinner. 



THE GREEN GOOSE. 

Mr. Bogardus " gin a treat," 
And a green goose, best of birds to eat, 
Delicious, savory, fat, and sweet, 
Formed the dish the guests to greet; 

But such, we know. 

Is small for a " blow," 

And many times around won't go; 
So Mr. Bogardus chanced to reflect, 
And with a wisdom circumspect, 
He sent round cards to parties select, 
Some six or so the goose to dissect, 

The day and hour defining; 
And then he laid in lots of things. 
That might have served as food for kings, 



THE GREEN GOOSE. 309 

Liquors drawn from their j)rimal springs, 
And all that grateful comfort brings 
To epicures in dining. 

But Mr. Bogardus's brother Sim, 
With moral qualities I'ather dim, 
Cojjied the message sent to him, 

In his most clerkly writing, 
And sent it round to Tom, and Dick, 
And Harry, and Jack, and Frank, and Nick, 
And many more, to the green goose "pick" 

Most earnestly inviting ; 
He laid it on the green goose thick, 

Their appetites exciting. 

'Twas dinner time by the Old South clock ; 
Bogardus waited the sounding knock 
Of friends to come at the moment, "chock," 
To try his goose, his game, his hock. 

And hoped they would not dally ; 
When one, and two, and tliree, and four, 
And running up the scale to a score. 
And adding to it many more, 
Who all their Sunday fixings wore, 
Came in procession to the door. 
And crowded in on his parlor floor, 
Filling him with confusion sore. 

Like an after-election rally ! 

" Gentlemen," tlien murmured he, 
" To what unhoped contingency 
Am I owing for this felicity, 
A visit thus unexjjected ? " 



310 PAKTINGTOKIAN PATCHWOEK. 

Then they held their cards before his eyes, 
And he saw, to his infinite surprise, 
That some sad dog had taken a rise 
On him, and his hungiy friends likewise, 

And whom he half suspected ; 
But there was Sim, 
Of morals dim, 
With a foce as long, and dull, and grim, 

As though he the ire reflected. 

Then forth the big procession went. 
With mirth and anger equally blent ; 
To think they didn't get the scent 
Of what the cursed missive meant 

Annoyed some of 'em deeply; 
They felt they'd been caught by a green goose bait. 
And plucked and skinned, and then, light weight. 

Had been sold very cheaply. 

MORAL. 

Keep your weather eye peeled for trap, 
For we never know just what may hap. 

Nor if we shall be winners ; 
Remembering that one green goose 
Will be of very little use 

'Mongst twenty hungry sinners. 



MISSING. 311 



MISSING. 

On the morning of August 20, 18 — , the following para- 
graph appeared in the columns of the Elmwood Adver- 
tiser : — 

*' MISSING. — Mr. George Wayne, of this town, has mysteriously 
disappeared from his home, and his friends are plunged into the 
deepest anxiety regarding him, The last seen of him, he was on his 
market wagon, proceeding towards this place from Centre Hebron, 
where he had been with a load of produce ; and, as he had received 
consFderable money, it is feared that he has been the victim of foul 
play. The team readied home without him. Every exertion has 
been made to ascertain his fate, but all have been fruitless." 

People might well be startled, as they were, to read this, 
for George Wayne was widely known as the most success- 
ful farmer in the valley of Sedge River, that ran through 
Ehnwood, and was much esteemed for his many estimable 
qualities. His energy and prudence had secured for him a 
competence ; and he had a worthy wife and two fine boys, 
with Avhom he lived very happily. He had no encum- 
brances, no troublesome obligations to meet, and, with 
pleasant domestic relations, no other reason for his disap- 
pearance than that of " foul play " could be entertained. 
The grief of his family was intense, and excited the sym- 
pathy of all for many miles around, who were ready to 
join in any effort that might be made to obtain a solution 
of the mystery. 

Accordingly advertisements were despatched in every 
direction, describing the missing man, and offering a large 
sum for the recovery of his body, if dead, or information 
regarding him, if living. The town authorities also took 



312 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

the matter up, and increased the amount of the reward 
oiFered by the friends of Wayne. The promptness with 
which all this was done attested to the estimation in wliich 
he was held ; and there was, besides, a desire to free the 
vicinity from the stigma that attached to the fact that a 
prominent citizen should thus disappear at midday, and no 
clew be had thereto ; for no like event had transpired there 
before, and the peoj^le were jealous of the reputation of 
the place. 

The traders with whom Wayne had last dealt at Centre 
Hebron were found, who gave an account of all that had 
happened up to the time of his parting from them on the 
day of his disappearance. They certified to his sobriety, 
and his usual correctness, having seen nothing about him 
indicating any mental disturbance. He had spoken of his 
family to them in the most pleasant manner, and had pur- 
chased several articles for his wife and children, that were 
found in the wagon on its return. Then suspicions, point- 
ing in sundry directions, made the lives of several vaga- 
bonds in tlie vicinity uncomfortable, and some who were 
over-zealous made small scruple in stating tlieir belief 
that So-and-so or So-and-so had a hand in it, as would 
eventually be found out. These were watched to see if 
they gave any evidence of possessing any more money 
than usual ; but no signs were seen that denoted any 
change, and so suspicion banked its fires, but did not let 
them die out. 

At length, when the zest of public feeling had worn off, 
some boys, at ])lay in a distant wood by the side of a little 
pool, had found poor Wayne's coat that he had worn on 
the day of his disapjiearance, with its pockets unrifled of 
its money and papers, and still containing some trifling 
presents tliat lie iiad purchased for his children at Centre 
Hebron. This was a vindication of those suspected ; the 



MISSING. 313 

spirit of search revived again ; the pond was drained in 
expectation of finding the missing one ; but all in vain. 
The secret was locked in the chamber of mysterious events, 
of which no one could find the key, and the excitement 
waned with nothing to feed it. 

Mrs. Wayne and her two boys, George and Harry, — the 
former six and the latter four years old, — were objects of 
deep commiseration, and every aid was extended to them 
in settling the estate, which proved to be in a condition to 
place them beyond want. The boys were sent to school, 
and their mother, relinquishing all hope of hearing from 
her absent husband, settled down into a resigned state of 
widowhood. She was yet young, and very good looking, 
and, though she had loved Wayne very devotedly, her 
weeds soon grew tiresome. Her spirit was one that dwelt 
with the living more than with the dead ; and when con- 
vinced that the dear departed had really gone, she listened 
to the blandishments of one more eloquent than the grave, 
and gave her hand to him for the sake of her children, 
who " needed a masculine hand to guide and correct them." 
Gossips condemned her for marrying again; but she knew 
best, of course. The care of the children decided it. 

So time slipped by, and George Wayne was about as 
completely forgotten as though he had never existed. A 
new class succeeded him, and the world got along very 
well without him, as it will without us when we, too, shall 
have passed on among the multitude that people the great 
Beyond. His children grew up to be industrious and 
worthy men, their father's name but a tradition to them ; 
and their mother was again a widow, she having found, 
with her cliildren, much more masculine guidance and di- 
rection than she had estimated when she married. 

Of the two boys, Harry inherited his father's spirit, and 
became one of the best farmers in the country, showing by 



314 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

his improvements and his sturdy croj^s what he kneAv about 
farming, supporting his mother, and j^i'oving by his publio 
spirit that he was a worthy son of a worthy sire. Every 
one of those who could recall the father, though they were 
few, averred that Plarry was like him as one pea is like 
another. George, like too many farmers' boys, took a dis- 
taste for the plodding life of the farm, and went to the 
city, where he embarked in trade with bright hopes of a 
fortune, with really but one chance in a thousand of its 
realization. Integrity and industry secured him friends, 
and his shrewdness and foresight won him position. He 
made money, and Avas on the high road to affluence at 
thirty. 

Among his city friends was a family of elegant refine- 
ment by the name of Francis, the head of which, Solon 
Francis, Esq., had made his acquaintance in tlie walks of 
trade, and had invited him to his house through respect 
for his many virtues, introduced him to his family, and 
made him a welcome comer. He was quite good looking, 
very intelligent, could sing and piny, was cheerful and hap- 
py, and the father's spirit of welcome became also that of 
the daughters, — three of them, — who looked upon him 
" as a brother." Ah, what a sweet illusion there is regard- 
ing this relation ! and, though "just like a brother" soimds 
perfectly rational and very harmlesSj there is too often a 
feeling mingling with the adopted relation that admits of 
a different, tliough not more tender, interpretation. 

No one saw any danger, however; and the young peo- 
ple played, and sang, and laughed together, as happy and 
as unconcerned as birds. For months this continued, the 
old gentleman well pleased at their enjoyment. The 
mother of the young ladies, had she been alive, might 
have foreseen and told the danger ; but she had been for 
some years dead. [I am sorry to introduce these mortu- 



MISSING. 315 

ary episodes into a cheerful story, — first George Wayne, 
and then the mother of these charming girls, — but the 
exigency of the plot demands it. I have, however, done 
better than most tale-writers, who dismiss the mothers of 
their stories with but one pale-faced girl, to live in a state 
of uselessness, and make some spoony fellow "happy" in 
the future, for Mrs. Francis left three, and one son, who 
was a shipmaster, whom George Wayne had not seen.] 
She would have seen that all the charming Platonisms, 
which made the society of these young people so pleasant 
to each other, might one day harden into a sentiment 
more dangerous to their peace, which, if she could not 
thwart, she might control ; but the singing, and playing, 
and laughing went on, all gliding along upon a smnmer tide, 
without a thought of danger beneath. 

The names of the three Graces, which made George 
Wayne's life pass so blissfully, were Mary, Alice, and Jen- 
nie; but the introduction of all of them is merely a mat- 
ter of courtesy, as my veracious stoiy has to do with but 
one — Alice, the sweetest and most sparkling of them all. 
She was indeed a radiant creature, though to save my life 
I could not say whether her hair was " pale gold," which 
is flax color, or " tawny gold," which is copper color, or 
whether her eyes were like a pansy, or a tansy, or a violet, 
or her comjjlexion like the bloom of an August peach in 
the sun, or a brunette, dusky, like the twilight. All I 
know about her is, that she was beautiful, vivacious, sensi- 
ble ; could converse, sing, and play, do housework; dressed 
in charming taste, and never broke lier father's heart by 
any demand for extravagant trimmings, in which latter re- 
gard her daughters, in their day, follow her example. But 
I anticipate. 

Dickens, commencing his story of the Cricket on the 
Hearth, says, "The kettle began it." I will not pretend 



316 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

to say on which side the " liking " began that settled the 
fate of George Wayne and Alice Francis ; but by some 
means they soon found out that the "just like a brother" 
position was not tenable. Neither can I tell how it was 
discovered ; but so it was, and the brotherly and sisterly 
delusion went down like unpopular stocks at the Brokers' 
Board, Why it was that Alice, and not all of the sisters, 
should fall in love with George, is another mystery, of 
which there are so many to bother one, and I refuse all 
further mention of them. 

George's visits to the sisters soon had a different mo- 
tive, and it w'as not disagreeable at all when the change 
came. Such of the facts as they had not guessed they 
got by inquiries from Alice; and she, not less communica- 
tive than the rest of lier sex, had kept them posted re- 
garding the progress of events. The father knew of it 
with much satisfaction, and George w\as installed in the 
family affections as the accredited lover of Miss Alice. 
He had also made his mother the recipient of the secret 
of his affections, so far as there was any secret about it, 
and she had breathed a blessing on the purposed union in 
eight long pages of note-paper. An interchange of visits 
had also takt^n place, and a mutual happiness was estab- 
lished that j^romised to be endless in duration. The wed- 
ding, however, was to be no liasty affair : eminent proprie- 
ty forbade that ; but it was an event for no very far 
distant day, as anybody reduced to half an eye could see. 
Congratulations were many, and the happy couple con- 
ceived themselves to be about the most fivored of any 
since the primeval pair. The primeval pair had no period 
of courtship to endanger the union of the cup and the lijD. 
They acceitted the situation at once, and were true to it. 
There were no jealousies and heart-burnings to mar the 
peace of either ; and so, maugre the trouble incurred be- 



MISSING. 317 

cause of that little episode about the apple, they lived 
happily on to the last. It is to be regretted that their ex- 
ample is not followed, in this respect, by their descend- 
ants. 

It was in the midst of this heyday of blissful anticipa- 
tion that one morning a carriage drove up to the door of 
the house, in wliich George Wayne was a j^artner, from 
which a gentleman and lady alighted, and were conducted 
to the counting-room, where sat the senior ])artner of the 
firm reading his newspaper. George saw, with a quick 
glance, as a playful breeze swept her veil aside, that she 
was very lovely, and though, just as she came in. he was 
thinking of selecting a pattern for a wedding coat, he 
wished heartily that he might be called in to consult with 
his senior on some matter, he cared not what, in order to 
get another glimpse of the beautiful stronger. Soon, much 
to his gratification, he heard his name called, and he 
obeyed the summons with alacrity. 

" Wayne," said Mr. Simpson, of the firm of Simpson, 
Dodge & Co., "this is Miss Willison, daugliter of our wine 
correspondent at Bordeaux — Mr. Wayne, Miss Willison ; 
Mr. Clark, of Clark & JMilton, Bordeaux, Mr. Wayne. 
Please be acquainted." 

Wayne acknowledged the pleasure, and learned from 
the lady that she had been for some time in America, a 
guest of Mr. Clark, and was on the j)oint of returning, 
when she heard the news of her fathers illness, and had 
come to consult with the firm, of which he had long been 
a correspondent. 

"Miss Willison," said Mr. Simpson, "represents her 
father, who, I am pained to hear, has been seized with a 
sudden ilhiess, which renders his furtlier attention to busi- 
ness impossible — a disease of the brain, and entire loss of 
memory. Some affliirs, in which he was engaged at the 



318 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

time he was stricken, need adjusting; therefore it will be 
necessary for one who is competent to go on, and assume 
the charge of matters there imtil liis recovery. Can you 
not go for a few months, and do this? — It will be very 
hard for him to go, I assure you. Miss Willison," — turning 
to her, — " for he has very strong ties to bind him here." 

But Wayne at once, as Rebekah did when suddenly 
asked to go and be the wife of Isaac, said, " I'll go," and 
turned away, with a parting bow and smile to the visitors, 
to pack his trunk, and bid good by to Alice. 

It was unfortunate that they could not have hurried 
things along a little, so that he could have taken Alice's 
trunks with his, and Alice, too ; but the wedding was re- 
served for his return ; and so, after a few days, he left, in 
the dangerous company of charming Miss Willison. 

Dangerous, I mean, under the circumstances ; for, though 
I firmly and fully believe that " the heart that once truly 
loves never forgets," still human nature is weak, and the 
heart may become etherized by passion, and all of human 
fealty be contravened in the heart's despite. Seasickness 
is a strong excitant of sympathy, and the charming Flo 
Willison — her name Avas Florinda Augusta, but there are 
no middle names in romance — was very sick, and George 
Wayne was not ; so he sat by her, and soothed her, and 
dosed her with brandy and water, and carried her on 
deck, and acted anew the brotherly role he had lately as- 
sumed. " With tlie same result ? " is asked. We shall see. 

" Flo," as George had learned to call her already in the 
most brotherly way possible, was persistently sick, though 
the color returned to her cheeks and lips, and insisted on 
the attention that her invalid condition demanded ; and at 
last, when she was able to eat a little something, he would 
go to the table, and select such delicacies as she liked, and 
they would eat them together in some quiet place, and de- 



MISSING. 319 

sire no more society. All the young men on board, and, it 
must be confessed, many of the old ones, were eager to 
render service to the fair invalid ; but she declined their at- 
tentions, as her " brother " was all that she desired. It 
was befoi'e the days of steamers, and the progress from 
New York to France Avas tedious ; but to George and Flo 
it was like Juliet's " sweet sorrow " of the ferewell, and 
they wished it might be extended, though Flo's sickness 
was of most alarming endurance. 

I went to sea once with a captain who was seasick the 
first of every voyage, and who always laid in three gallons 
of gin as a remedy. I did not see that it did him any 
good, though he kept taking it till it was gone, and com- 
menced his duties with the last dose, tlirowing the tin 
tumbler, from which he took it, at the steward's head, 
though I could not understand why. 

Flo was sick every bit of the way across the ocean, but, 
on the principle of the captain's remedy, George's reme- 
dies were not exhausted, and so he kept on administering 
them, and she saw no necessity for getting well, and both 
regretted when the shores of France came in view, as they 
at last did. 

George, when they left the ship, could not help admit- 
ting that the biotherly feeling for Flo was stronger than 
that which he had entertained for the sisters; but he sup- 
posed that it was owing to the fact of his having in that 
case to divide himself among three, while in this all was 
concentrated on one. 

He rode with her in the carriage that bore her to her 
home in the suburbs of Bordeaux ; but not wishing to in- 
terrupt the cordiality of meeting by the presence of a 
stranger, he bade her good by, with the promise of an im- 
mediate call, and gave Ijer a chaste, brotherly kiss at part- 
ing, which she returned in a sisterly manner. 



320 PAETINGTONIAIT PATCHWOEK. 

He drove to his hotel, thinking what a charming person 
she was, and was glad to think he had been instrumental 
in alleviating the pangs of her seasickness by bis care. 

He called upon her the next day, and found her equally 
charming. He saw her father, a perfect wreck of a man 
mentally, although his bodily health was good. He knew 
his daughter, but had no comprehension beyond the 
simplest facts. All business grasp was gone, and when 
she tried to introduce George as the companion of her 
voyage and her protectoi', he appeared to arouse at the 
mention of the name, rubbed liis forehead thoughtfully, 
and then i elapsed into indifference. 

Flo was an only child, her mother having also, for the 
express benefit of my story, died when she Avas very 
young. 

Wayne went immediately to work to adjust the busi- 
ness of the concern, but found affixirs so complicated that 
months would be necessary to enable him to complete the 
work he had to do. In the mean time his correspondence 
with Alice had been prompt and glowing. But his letters, 
full of enthusiastic descriptions of his fair companion, did 
not elicit such cordial responses as he wished, and, greatly 
to his surprise, he found them growing colder with every 
mail. Strangely enough, he found himself making com- 
parisons between Alice and Flo, with a large percentage 
in favor of the latter, and even questioned whether he had 
ever loved the former at all. His visits to Flo were fre- 
quent, and with every visit arose new doubts about the 
nature of the feeling towards Alice that had inspired him. 
The atmosphere of correspondence grew colder and colder, 
till it was almost icy, and then, without explanation, letters 
from Alice stopped coming altogether. Wayne thought 
himself a much injured man, but found a solace in the so- 
ciety of Flo that more than compensated him. 



MISSING. 321 

One night thereafter he and his fair jDatient were at the 
theatre, enjoying an opera, when he was attracted by a 
battery of lorgnettes aimed at him from a private box, and, 
turning his own glass in that direction, he encountered the 
stare of the whole Francis family, who indignantly repudi- 
ated him in the glance that they gave him. There was 
with them a tall, big-whiskered fellow, whom he did not 
like the appearance of, who made a motion as if to leave 
the box, but was held back by Alice, as though she would 
still show herself Wayne's good angel, maugre the hostili- 
ty, if such it was, betwixt them. Before he could rightly 
decide how to act, the party had left the box, and, without 
explaining the motive that was evident in his conduct, he 
turned to admiring the opera with his fair companion, to 
whom he had never revealed the secret of his engagement 
— the ridiculous fellow ! 

He consulted the papers to leai*n the hotel where the 
Francis family were stopping, and went to find them ; but 
they had left for Germany. In the course of the day, 
however, as he was busied with his accounts, alone, a 
knock came upon the door, to which he responded, " Come 
in," when the same big-whiskered man of the theatre stood 
before him. 

" Is your name George Wayne ? " he asked. 

« It is." 

" Then there is a card, which will tell you who I am, 
and you can guess the object of my visit. If you cannot, 
I will tell yon." 

The card bore the name of" Thomas Francis, New York." 

" I suppose, by the card," said George, " that you must 
be Captain Francis, the brother of the Misses Francis, of 
New York, ladies for whom I entertain the profoundest 
affection and respect, one of wliom. Miss Alice, was to 
have been my bride on my return." 
2.1 



322 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

" Yes," replied the captain, looking very savage ; " and 
wliy isn't she to be your bride ? Tell rae that ! " 

" 'Pen my honor," said George, " I know no earthly rea- 
son, except that she has stopped corresponding with me ; 
and one would not wish to marry a person who is angry 
with him. Would you ? " 

" I don't know about that," said the captain ; " but what 
do you mean, sir, by your infamous conduct in praising 
another in your letters to my sister ? Is that the way you 
try to keep a young lady good-natured ?" 

"I certainly have," replied George, "praised a certain 
young lady passenger in the shij) with me, who was sea- 
sick, and had no mother; but you know how it is yourselfj 
and how natural attention at such a time woiild be. I 
would not have offended my dear Alice for anything in the 
world ; but as she has chosen silence as the bond of peace, 
I have nothing to say." 

" But are you not going to marry her ? " shouted the 
irate captain. 

" I should not wish to do so against her will," said 
George ; " but I stand ready to resume communications 
wlien the cable is fished up from the bottom of the ocean 
of doubt and jealousy, and reunited. Then, when I get a 
message fi-om ' Heart's Content,'! shall know what to do." 

The captain went out without another word, and Wayne 
resumed his figures. The captain did not put in another 
appearance ; and in a short time George received a pack- 
age containing all of his letters to Alice, and a note from 
Jennie regretting the disruption of the ties which they 
had all hoped were to last, and bidding him a sisterly fare- 
well forever. 

George dropped a tear or two upon the letter, with a 
real feeling of sadness at liis heart, and went and made a 
confession of the whole matter to Flo, who shed sweet tears, 



MISSING. 323 

and blamed him for not telling her before, which might 
have j^revented her — Here she broke down, without 
explanation ; but the meaning George guessed, for he 
clasped her in his arms, and was as much delighted as 
though she had spoken a whole chapter. In the midst of 
the scene, to the surprise of both, a door near them opened 
at this somewhat critical juncture, and her father stood 
before them, who, in a terrible voice, demanded to know 
what the scene he witnessed meant. That is what all en- 
raged fathers say, as if they do not know very well what 
it means ! 

A great change had come over the old man. He stood 
before them in the strength of restored powers, his eyes 
clear and bright, with too much memory, if anything, for 
the present comfort and peace of mind of those who stood 
before him. 

" It means, sir," said George, taking Flo by the hand, 
"that I love your daughter, and she has just avowed, by 
implication, a similai' regard for me. We feel grateful, sir, 
that you have recovered, to consent to and bless our union." 

" And what name does he bear who asks this ? " rei:)lied 
Mr. Willison. " It is a modest request, truly, for a man to 
make whom I do not know ! " 

" True, I had forgotten, sir," said George, " that, though 
as the recent partner of SimjDson, Dodge & Co., I was 
familiar with your name, you could not be with mine. My 
name, sir, is George Wayne." 

The old man gave a start, as if electrified, and in a 
husky voice repeated the name. Seizing the young man 
by the arm, he turned him to the window, and gazed long 
and earnestly upon his features. 

" Holy Heaven ! " said he, smiting his forehead, while 
the tears poured from his eyes, " why was I waked to con- 
sciousness like this ? And yet my returning saves us all 



324 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

from a great calamity. Flo, my cliild, leave — George 
Wayne"' — speaking the name as if with difficulty — 
" with me," 

She did as directed, casting a troubled look at George 
as she left the room, while he stood with all the active 
emotions visible on his face. 

" You cannot marry her," said the old man, when they 
were alone. 

" Why not ? " asked George, in a tone of suiiDrise, grief, 
and some vexation. 

" Because," replied he, " she is your sister ! " 

" It cannot be ! " almost shrieked the lover, as be heard 
the words. 

"Alas, it is too true, as I can convince you," said Mr. 
Willison — Willison no longer, " I, too, bear, or did bear, 
the name of George Wayne ; but years ago I lost it, lost 
my identity, and, strange as it may seem, everything by 
which I could know myself. In an oblivious state, I wan- 
dered away from home and friends, and awoke amid 
scenes that were new — to a new life. I did not know my 
name, the place I came from, the friends I had known, 
though I never forgot that I had a wife and children. 
These clung to me like a ray of sunlight in the gloom of a 
cavern ; but I could got no clew to them. At last, in de- 
spair, I gave them up, hopeless of a rexinion with them, 
married a worthy woman, the mother of Flo, and became 
Arthur Willison, correspondent of a respectable New York 
house, and made money, till the malady came that struck 
me down. I have ha.d what seemed dreams of my early 
life — a misty memory of a ride in a blazing sun from a 
busy town to my own home, of being made partly uncon- 
scious, and leaving my cart in search of water in a wood, 
where all reason left me, until I came to myself here, I 
was told that I had shipped on a vessel at New York for 



MISSING. 325 

this 2301't ; that I appeared in a state of bewilderment when 
asked to sign the shipping-papers, and made my mark, giv- 
ing the name I bear. And now, tell me, is yom* motlier 
yet alive '? " 

He watched eagerly for an answer. 

" Slie is," replied George Wayne, the color of his hope 
all faded out, as it must necessarily have done, for did ever 
such a crushing weight obtrude itself upon " love's young 
dream " as a mutual father to interpose objections to the 
banns ? Charles Reade, in his most artistic inspiration, I 
think, never conceived aught like this. I lead him here, 
though, in ordinary cases, he could give me eight points in 
ten, and beat me. 

"Thank God for that!" said the old man; "and now, 
my son, show your manhood by endeavoring to overcome 
this hopeless passion, and give your mind to the reunion 
of your parents, and the reparation of past accidents, 
grateful for woi'se accidents just escaped." 

George went to inform Flo, who received the announce- 
ment with astonishment, and some considerable regret 
that Fate had transformed a real nice lover into a very 
ordinary brother ; but he consoled her, and kissed her tears 
away, as he had a right to do, and behaved so tenderly 
that Flo admitted that a brother was not so very much 
worse than a lover, after all. 

Thus matters stood, when George wrote an urgent letter 
to his mother to come to France by the next packet, and, 
though it is very easy to state the fact, it took months for 
her to reach her destination. When she came, George 
carried her at once to Mr. Willison's residence, and told 
her she must not be surprised, though one came there as if 
from the dead to receive her. She looked on his face in 
great alarm, but his smile reassured her. 

" Suppose it should be father ! " 



326 PAETINGTOlSnAN PATCHWORK. 

" O, no ; it can't be ! " she said, wildly. 

But the door was swung wide, and there stood the ap- 
parition of the former George Wayne, "who came towards 
her with open arms, with the same look on his face, and 
she, simply murmuring, " My husband ! " was enclosed in 
his embrace. 

She had fainted, of course. 

The morning journals announced the return from their 
travels of the Francis family, and to their hotel George 
Wayne went very early to propitiate the dark deities that 
at this time were brooding over both the houses. He 
found the captain in the reading-room, who received him, 
of course, very coolly ; but upon his opening the discus- 
sion by an explanation of the new state of affairs, and ly- 
ing a little about the new sister by suppressing the fact 
that he did not know she was such when he wrote about 
her, the captain Avas mollified, and he was sent aloft as an 
ambassador of peace, returning soon with an invitation to 
the prodigal to come up stairs, which he accepted; and 
there tlie inharmonies were adjusted, to the delight of all. 

I might as well say here that George and Alice were 
married at the American consul's, and it was tlie greatest 
and grandest wedding celebrated in that city for many 
years, if I may except that of Captain Francis and Flo 
Willison soon after, which happened as a matter of course ; 
anybody can see that it must have happened in such an 
atmosphere as surrounded them. 

As soon as the business of his house was adjusted, 
which was now easily done with the help of the recovered 
George Wayne, all the j^arties returned to America, the 
old folks going by themselves to their first home, every 
scene of which was restored to the mind of the missing 
man. When they walked up the principal street of 
Elmwood, with Harry by their side, the astonishment of 



MIGRATORY P.ONES. 327 

the people knew no bounds. The old hobbled out to re- 
ceivetheir long-absent friend, while the young rnshedin with 
wild curiosity. The bells were rung, and, when the peo- 
ple assembled on the village green, the old minister knelt 
down, and devoutly thanked God, to which all responded 
Amen. 



MIGRATORY BONES,* 

SHOWING THE VAGABONDISH TENDENCY OF BONES 
THAT ARE LOOSE. 

We all have heard of Dr. Redman, 

The man in New York who deals with dead men, 

Who sits at a table, 

And straighway is able 
To talk with the spirits of those who have fled, man ! 

And gentles and ladies 

Located in Hades, 
Through liis miraculous mediation, 

Declare how they feel, 

And such things reveal 
As suits their genius for impartation. 
'Tis not with any irreverent spirit 
I give the tale, or flout it, or jeer it ; 

* Dr. Redman, of New York, was a noted medium, and it was 
said that, for a while, wherever he might be, bones would be 
dropped all about him, to tlie confusion and wonder of everybody. 
These bones, he said, were brought him by a spirit, whose bones 
were of no further use to him. 



328 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

For many good folk 

Not subject to joke 
Declare for the ilict that they both see and hear it. 

It comes from New York, though, 

And it might be hard work, though, 
To bring belief to any point near it. 

Now this Dr. Redman, 

Who deals with the dead men, 
Once cut up a fellow whose spirit had fled, man, 

Who (the felloAv) perchance 

Had indulged in that dance 
Performed at the end of a hempen thread, man ; 

And the cut-iip one, 

(A son of a gun !) 
Like Banquo, though he was dead, wasn't done. 
Insisted in very positive tones 

That he'd be ground to calcined manure. 

Or any other evil endure. 
Before he'd give up his right to his bones ! 
And then, through knocks, the resolute dead man 
Gave his bones a bequest to Redman. 

In Hartford, Conn., 

This matter was done. 
And Redman the bones highly thought on, 

When, changed to New York 

Wns the scene of his work, 
In conjunction with Dr. Orton. 

Now, mark the wonder that here apjjears : 
After a season of months and years, 

Comes up again the dead man. 
Who, in a very practical way, 
Says he'll bring his bones some day, 



MIGRATORY BONES. 329 

And give them again to Redman. 

When, sure enough 

(Though some tliat are rough 

Might call the narrative " devilish tough "), 

One charming day 

In the month of May, 
As Orton and Redman walked the street, 

Through the severing air, 

From they knew not where, 

Came a positive bone, all bleached and bare, 
That dropped at the doctor's wondering feet ! 

Then the sprightly dead man 

Knocked out to Redman 
The plan that lay in his ghostly head, man : 

He'd carry the freight. 

Unheeding its weight ; 
They needn't question how, or about it; 

But they might be sui-e 

The bones he'd procure, 
And not make any great bones about it. 
From that he made it a special point 
Each day for their larder to furnish a joint ! 

From overhead, and from all around, 
Upon the floor, and upon the ground, 
Pell-mell, 
Down fell 

Low bones, and high bones, 

Jaw bones, and thigh bones, 
Until the doctors, beneath their power, 
Ducked like ducks in a thunder-shower ! 

Armfuls of bones, 

Bagfuls of bones, 



830 PARTINGTOXIAN PATCHWORK. 

Cartloads of bones, 

No end to the multitudinous bones, 
Until, forsooth, this thought gained head, man, 
That this invisible friend, the dead man, 

Had chartered a band 

From the shadowy land. 

Who had turned to work with a busy hand. 
And boned all their bones for Dr. Redman ! 

Now, hoAV to account for all the mystery 
Of this same weird and fantastical history? 

That is the question 

For people's digestion. 
And calls aloud for instant untwistery ! 

Of this we are certain, 

By this lift of the curtain, 
That still they're alive for work or enjoyment, 

Though I must confess 

That I scarcely can guess 
Why they don't choose some useful employment. 



A NEW YEAR'S REVERIE. 

Don't talk to me of waste-baskets for old letters ; 
even the insidious plea of eight cents per pound paid for 
paper stock moves me not; they must be burned. As the 
old Romans burned their dead, and preserved their ashes 
in urns, cherishing them with rcdigious reverence and af- 
fection, so old letters, embodying loves, and fenrs, and ex- 
periences, should be thus served, nor be allowed to pass to 
baser uses. They have done their parts as ministers to 



A NEW year's eeveeie. 331 

oui" pleasure or knowledge, and are deserving of the con- 
secration of fire and preservation from ignoble purposes. 
There is a measure of pain in the consignment to ashes of 
that which has been a part of one's self, which has sounded 
the various chords of feeling, and drawn out by its subtile 
power the melody (or the discord) of our being — some of 
it that the world has not heard, which has but silently 
breathed and exhaled to harmonize with the music of the 
spheres. Letters, unless upon matters pertaining to his- 
tory, or science, or the general welfare in other forms, 
should always be burned. Private joys and sorrows, that 
form the subject matter of ordinary letter-writing, should 
not be transmitted for the gratification of curious eyes, sub- 
ject to invidious construction or the remark of the indifier- 
ent. They belong to me, and me alone, and they shall fol- 
low me, or lead me, to the bourn towards which we both 
tend. 

I take from the receptacle where they have lain these 
many years the old soiled bundles, yellow with time and 
the accretive dust, the hint of their own decay, gathered 
upon them. Here they are before me, pile upon pile, an 
incongruous collection, their contents long since forgotten, 
their writers dead or estranged, — which is worse, — or 
scattered to the ends of the earth. The old have passed 
away, the young become old, and mayhap all this living 
record of mind, that was, has not a recollection living in 
the breast of any. Yet here the thoughts, and hopes, and 
fears remain, and ere I consign them to the pyre, I Avill 
once again peruse them, and refresh my memory regarding 
their contents. 

It is a befitting task for the close of a year, at a time 
when more serious reflections are awakened and retrospec- 
tion finds exercise. Then the old forms come back to us, 
and the old scenes revive with wonderful vividness, need- 



382 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWOEK. 

ing but the voices of the past to give them vitality. In 
these soiled packages are the voices, still as eloquent with 
the thought that then filled them as the day they were 
written. 

Here is one from Dartmouth College — scholarly, and 
imbued with the young ambition that was going to open 
the world lilie an oyster, and compel it to shell out. The 
writer is now an editor, the oyster but moderately seen in 
his life's results, but the old-time hope still remains, aud 
the warm feeling displayed in his friendship still exists, re- 
vealed in a thousand domestic virtues and a geniality 
of life that renders him beloved. . . . This is a badly- 
spelled remembrance of a kind-hearted schoolmate in the 
Granite State, whose ideas of taste would hardly find echo 
in the modern saloons, but whose jirofanity would have 
done credit to to-day's greater experience. He was killed 
by a whale, it is supposed, up by the Noith Pole, and 
nothing but a spiritual communication, that spelled his 
name wrong, — the best proof in the world of his identity, 
— was heard from him afterwards. . . . This is from a 
pious adviser of my youth, long gone to his reward, coun- 
selling me to avoid the many temptations to be met with 
in the modern Babylon, as he regarded the Boston of that 
day — (what would he have said of this?) — and request- 
ing me to send him, by stage, a pound of tobacco of a par- 
ticular brand, the value of which he would remit, which he 
never did, . . . This is one of deeper interest, brimming 
with the fullness of a sister's love — unselfish, devoted, 
faithful. How pure such love seems, as we wake from our 
dream of passion and sin and hear its voice, speaking to 
us this time from the open heavens that bend as if beck- 
oning our attention towards that sphere where such love 
alone is known, to be found " when corruption shall have 
put on incorruption," and the uses of i^assion, — the sever- 



A NEW YEAK S REVERIE. 833 

est trial of love, — shall have been forgotten in the higher 
and brighter walks of the si)iritual life ! Burn, burn ! the al- 
tar of sacrifice is greedy for the treasure that I fling upon it. 

This soiled and crumpled paper recalls an incident of my 
early experience. Long ago I received this missive, di- 
}-ected in trembling and indecisive characters, requesting 
my aid in a very iirgent matter. It gave an inkling of, 
wliat I fully guessed, one of those incidents in life that 
too often happen, which sink manhood and womanhood 
so low that Ave turn in disgust from contemplating them 
even while we stretch out our hands to save. My little 
playmate Mary, the letter told me, the widowed mother's 
youngest and fairest child, had been " lured by a villain 
from her native home," and was now, it was feared, in Bos- 
ton. I subsequently learned that a young scamp from the 
metropolis had, duiing a month's sojourn in the vicinity of 
her home, won the affection of the too susceptible girl, 
and that, yielding to him, she had left her almost heart- 
broken mother, who, in this crumpled and faded letter, is 
again entreating me, by old companionsliip and old love, 
to save her dove from the hands of tlie spoiler. 

Never did knight of old enter upon chivalric devoir 
with more enthusiasm than I did to find the whereabouts 
of the runaway. I walked through every street, scrutinized 
every carriage that passed by me, looked in at every win- 
dow, attended upon all exhibitions that would excite female 
curiosity; but no clew could I obtain of tlie object of my 
search. My mission led me into some equivocal localities, 
subjecting me to many invidious shrugs and comments. 
Once or twice I was addressed by females of character far 
from snow-like, to whom I freely told my errand, and from 
whom I received an encouraging and even a kind word, 
leading me to look with difierent eyes upon a class so lov.'Iy 
sunk, but who yet retained euougk of the divine to think 



334 PATINGT0NIA2T PATCHWOKK:. 

with pity on a mother's grief and entertain a desire to save 
her daughter from a life of shame. Grave people shook 
their heads to see me in dangerous vicinities, which they 
knew better than I did ; and some even went so far as to 
advise with me in the matter, rei^eating to me Solomon's 
words about the strange woman, whose steps take hold on 
tlie regions of darkness, and of the dart that pierces the liver. 
When I spoke to them, however, of the matter on which 
I was bent, they coolly told me that such a subterfiige was 
unworthy so well-seeming a young man, and turned away 
as if they were afraid I should prove that I was hon- 
est. This was a lesson I learned very early : That it is 
not alone to those who make the loudest jDrofessions we 
must look for genuine good; that even the poor outla-wed 
girl may have more of tlie leaven of sympathy and love in 
her deeper nature than those wlio practise external right- 
eousness to the last syllable of the mint and cumin, but who 
are sadly wanting in the weightier matter of the law. Poor, 
outcast, degraded, wretched, trodden under feet of men, — 
how much brighter this sweet flame of charity seems to 
glow when we see it kindle amid such suiTOundings ! I 
went into obscure courts, and eyed all the windows with 
pertinacious impudence, as it must have appeared to the 
inmates, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mary. Sometimes, 
as my too bold glance compelled a hasty retreat of some 
fair one from a window, I would fancy that it must be she, 
and waited to see the face ajjpear again, almost desj^airing 
with each disappointment. 

The facilities for inquiry were not then as now, when 
the police system, like Argus, presents a hundred eyes 
through which to look. I enlisted the town police in the 
matter, and after a month's time, learned that one answer- 
ing my description was living in a little cottage in Cam- 
bridge. 



A NEW YEAP.'S REVERIE. 335 

This intimation gave me great joy, and I resolved to go 
at once to see her, and entreat her to go back to the home 
she had left. Armed with tliis resolution, I went to 
Cambridge, and found the house described. Up to this 
moment I had formed no definite plan of operation. 
I knew nothing of the condition in which she was liv- 
ing, if found, beyond the mere suspicion of the mo- 
ment — for which there were probabilities strong enough, 
but by no means proofs, I could make no charges, and 
my entreaties might be taken as insults, securing me a 
rapid ^^assage to the door, and a swift ejectment through 
it. As I stood hesitating; a young man passed out of the 
house. He was just such a one as I should have selected 
for tlie person described, dressed according to the most 
tasteful fashion of the time, and wearing about him all the 
appearances of a scape-grace. He gave me a passing 
glance, without suspecting my errand, and vanished round 
the first corner. 

Left to myself, and hesitating what to do, I was relieved 
by a voice uttering my name. I pretended some surj^rise, 
and went to the door, which was opened to me by Mary 
herself. She was as pretty as ever ; but I fancied there 
was an expression of care on her face ; though she gladly 
welcomed me, and smiled upon me with her eai'ly brightness. 

" I am so glad to see you ! " she said, shaking my hand ; 
" and it is such a queer thing your finding me, — or rather 
ray finding you, because I did ! " 

I assured her I was delighted to see her, spoke of the 
long time since we had met, and alluded to our former in- 
timacy. 

"And, Mary," said I, " what a delightful home you have 
here ! It realizes the old-time ideal of love in a cottage, 
with honeysuckled windows and all the romantic incident 
of young aflection. I didn't hear of your marriage. . He 



336 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

is a fortunate man who has such a fairy to bless his bower. 
I was in hopes, once, Mary, that I should share my fate 
with you ; but it was only a dream, and you are happy 
with another. Well, be it so — that you are happy is 
enougli for me. Who is your husband?" 

I looked in her face, and saw she was as pale as death, 
though she tried to smile, as a rose strives to bloom with 
the canker eating at its heart. 

" What is the matter, Mary ? " said I ; " are you ill ? " 

"No, no," she replied, "not ill; but a chill came over 
me, and — " She burst into tears. 

"Dear Mary," I exclaimed, "something has happened 
to you. Are you not happy ? Does — does — he not treat 
you kindly ? " 

" Yes, yes," said she, with a painful effort to look cheer- 
ful. "0,1 am very happy, and — he — he couldn't treat 
me better. See here ; I have everything to content me. 
Here is my music, here my books, here my work," 

" Yes," rejjlied I, with a sublime attempt at Mentorship, 
"everything but one — peace of mind." 

She placed her hand on her heart, as though I had 
planted a dagger there, and almost screamed, as she ex- 
claimed, — 

"True, true, and without that all the rest is hideous; 
but how did you suspect this ?" 

I told her that I had read it in her looks. 

"Do my features indeed reveal this ? " said she, sadly, and 
going to a glass. " Has the poison done its work so soon ? " 

" Poison ! " I exclaimed. 

" No, no ; what am I talking about ? " she cried ; " I am 
wild to rave thus, and treat you so badly, who are my old 
schoolmate and friend, — for you are my friend, and I have 
few friends now. And now tell me everytliing about — 
about our old friends, you know. How long it is since I 
have heard from them ! " 



A NEW year's KEVEKIE. 837 

She was now all attention, and I pvoceeded to recount 
the many things that had transpired since she left, speaking 
incidentally of her mother, and noting its effect upon her. 
She looked down and sighed, but asked no questions on 
those points that I saw she thought the most of. The 
scene was mutually painful — on my part to withhold my 
knowledge of her secret ; on hers to keep me from know- 
ing it. I parted from her without intimating that I knew 
aught about her, or that our meetinc: had been other than 
accidental, reserving my errand till the next time we should 
meet. 

I resolved that but little time should elapse before this, 
and in about a week I went again, and was received 
with the same kindness. There was a deeper shadow on 
her brow, as I plainly saw ; but her lips discoursed lightly, 
and a pleasant laugh frequently rippled upon the wave of 
our conversation. At last I spoke. 

" Mary, I have heard from your mother since I was here 
last." 

The start that she gave, and the look that she turned on 
me ! — saying, in an almost inaudible tone, — 

" Have you ? " 

"Yes," I replied ; " and she wants you to come home. 
She is very sad that you left her ; your absence brealcs her 
heart." 

She saw that I knew all. Folding her face in her hands, 
she poured forth a torrent of self-crimination, regretting 
the misery she bad inflicted, but not, through it all, impli- 
cating the one who had led her into trouble, ending by 
sayiiig that she could never go home again. There was 
bitter sadness in the tone in which this was said ; but when 
I attempted expostulation she repeated her words with 
more emphasis, thanking me for my effort in her behalf, 
and sending by me a blessing for her mother, whom she 
22 



S38 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

did not clave to write to. I left her in a very sad frame of 
mind. A few days after I called again, but the bird, had 
flown ; the shutters were put up at the windows, and a 
placard, " To Let," was nailed on to the door. I imme- 
diately wrote to her mother of my discovery and disap- 
pointment; and though I had still my eyes open to see her, 
if possible, I hardly dared hope for it, deeming that she 
had been jDlaced beyond the chance of my again troubling 
her. 

Three years passed away, and the memory of Mary had 
become overwhelmed by the wave of passing events. I 
had received no tidings of her, and supposed she might 
have gone down beneath the tide, as so many had done, 
and left no trace by which to ascertain her fate. Passing 
along Washington Street hastily, one day, I saw a face that 
came across the disk of my vision like the memory of a 
painful dream — vague, ill-defined, with nothing tangible 
by which to locate or identify it. 

I could not, for the life of me, recall the time or place 
where I had seen it, but it was a face that, once seen, was 
not to be forgotten. It was handsome, proud almost to 
insolence, and bore upon it a certain stamp of breeding 
that will always reveal itself. I turned to look upon it, but 
it had been swallowed up by the crowd, and blaming my 
treacherous memory, I gave it up as hopeless. 

There was an exhibition of paintings at the old Athe- 
nseuni in Pearl Street about this time. It was unusually 
fine, and comprised the works of many of the best native 
and foreign artists. Sauntering along and leisurely examin- 
ing the collection, I at last stood before a portrait that I 
thought I recognized. Looking at the catalogue, I found 
it bore the simple title, " Portrait of a Gentleman." I 
tried to connect it with something outside — some inci- 
dent or scene — but could not. Passing along, in the 



A NEW year's reverie. 339 

painful struggle to recollect, I was attracted by Duverne's 
great work, "Mary and the Master," when, like a flash of 
light, it came over rae that the face which puzzled me was 
his that I had seen leave the cottage in Cambridge, three 
years before. I involuntarily said, " Mary." 

I have lived long enough to discriminate between 
appointment and accident, as any one must who sees the 
wonderful phenomena imputed to accident take their part 
in the formation of fortune or character, or the coinciden- 
tals that astonish us by their frequency. Thus the simple 
name, "Mary," at this moment, breathed upon my memory 
the retrocast of years, and endowed it with form, and peo- 
pled it. I was almost startled by the suddenness and 
vividness of the recollection, when a hearty voice at my 
side said, — 

"A fine picture, sir." 

I turned to the speaker, and saw an elderly gentleman 
with his hand rolled up and held to Iiis eye, looking through ' 
it earnestly at the painting. I saw that he had addressed 
me, and assented to the proposition that it was a fine 
painting. 

" But who is Duverne ? " said he. 

I assured him that I had never before heard of him, and 
indeed have never again heard of him to this day. After 
a few brief exchanges on art and artists, I related to him 
the reason of my ejaculation of the name that had attracted 
his attention, and asked him to look at the portrait that 
had provoked my curiosity. 

"That!" said he, in some surprise; "that is my nephew, 
sir ; I may almost say my son, for he will possess what little 
I may have left when I pass from the stage, A well-look- 
ing young man, sir." 

I assented very readily, as he really was, in appearance, 
all that could be wished. 



840 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWOKK. 

" Is he nmrried ? " I inquired. 

" Man-ied ! " he rejilied, nhiiost angrily ; " no, the dog, 
and that is what troubles me. If he would only marry 
and settle down into a steady-going citizen, I should feel 
some hope of him, and be better assured of his future hap- 
piness. He is a little wild, you know — the fault, as some 
deem it, of young people, though I am not a stickler for 
entire pi-opriety at twenty-five. At any rate, I can for- 
give a good deal in one at that age." 

"Have you urged him to marry?" I asked, holding the 
great secret in my heart which made me bold. 

" Certainly I have," he replied, shaking his cane threat- 
ingly, but fondly, at the picture ; " certainly I have, but he 
pertinaciously laughs me to silence when I propose it ; and 
I have such a match for him! — 'wealth and beauty, sir, 
waiting but the motion to fall into his arms. You know 
it is true, you rogue, you," said he, addressing the picture. 

" Does he not love some one else, sir ? " I ventured, but 
instantly saw that I had touched a tender point. 

" He dare not," said the old gentleman, turning very 
red ; " he dare not ; for should he venture to bestow his 
aifc'Ction where I did not wish him to, I would cut him off, 
sir, from all forgiveness, and not one of my dollars should 
he ever touch." 

"Still human nature is weak," I nrged ; "and human 
love capricious ; it will go where it is sent, like the measles. 
I know of no immunity that any of us possess." 

"Nonsense ! " he replied. 

"He might do worse, even, than love without your con- 
sent," I said. 

"How?" he asked. 

I then drew for him a fancy picture of a young man who 
perhaps would do as I presumed he had done, telling Mary's 
story minutely as I had learned it, coloring it with the 



A NEW year's reverie. 341 

skill of an artist, and putting the color lavishly on the 
effective points. He listened very attentively, and sensi- 
bly assented to my proposition that this were worse than 
tjie crime of loving without his assent. 

"This were an atrocity," said he, "that I would never 
overlook. I would disown him were he my son ten times 
over. But my boy is incapable of anything of this kind. 
I have heard rumors of his indiscretion, but he has dis- 
avowed them to me, when accused of them, and I know 
him too well to doubt him. Besides, years and travel have 
tempered his youth, and the period of danger is passed. 
He has for three years been in Europe." 

This accounted for my not having seen him. I thought 
I would here run the risk of speaking the thought that 
was in my mind. 

" And yet," said I, very seriously, " I bring, here in the 
presence of his effigy, and of the affection that would 
shield him, the charge of having committed the very crime 
depicted in my sketch." 

The old man almost shouted, " It can't be true." 

"It is true, sir," I said; and proceeded to tell him my 
discovery of the cottage at Cambridge, the flice momenta- 
rily seen and remembered, the recognition of it in the 
street, and the final identification of it in the gallery through 
.the mnemote^hnic liint of the associated "Mary." He 
listened attentively, and assured me he would sift the 
afflxir to the bottom. He wished me to be present at the 
interview with his nephew, and as the young man did not 
know me, he proposed that I should attend in the capacity 
of lawyer, to draw up some pretended marriage contract 
which he was going to insist upon having executed. Hand- 
ing me his card in exchange for mine, the old gentleman 
left the gallery. 

The time came sooner than I expected ; for the next 



342 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

day a note was bronglit me requesting my attendance 
that evening- in Blank Street — a street tlien "respectable," 
but now given over to desecrating uses, where wasliing is 
done in consecrated halls, and tobacco and gingerbread 
present temptation for old and young, from windows, then 
rich witli aristocratic hangings, now hung with onions. 
Punctual to the time named, I presented myself, and was 
at once ushered into a spacious and elegant parloi', in which 
were my old friend and the original of the picture in the 
Athenaeum. I was introduced as Mr. Trevor, and was 
received with a seeming of shy reserve that promised little 
for an extended acquaintance. 

" I have sent for you, Mr. Trevor," said the old gentle- 
man, "on a matter which concerns me and my nephew 
very closely, though I have said nothing to him of my in- 
tentions. I have set my heart upon his marrying a lady, 
young, rich, beautiful, and accomplished. The act would 
establish him for life in competency. Many times I have 
expressed my wish to see this, and as many times have 
been denied ; therefore I call upon you to prepare such 
papers as may be necessary to secure the object." 

I looked at the young man. His face was deathly pale. 
His lips were compressed, as though he were struggling to 
repress the spirit of resistance that filled him. 

"Uncle," said he, "I had hoped that this matter was 
settled foiever, and have, as you say, repeatedly declined 
this union. The lady is all you claim for her, but I never 
can love her as a man should love a woman to marry her, 
and I must again beg you to give up the liope you have 
clung to. Command me in anything but that, and I will 
obey you." 

The old gentleman looked at him fiercely as he spoke, 
and I saw the cloud gathering that suddenly burst upon 
the victim. 



A NEW year's eeveeie. 343 

"Suppose," replied he, " that I should tell you to give 
rue an account of the last three years of your life, with all 
its duplicity and wickedness, counting in a broken-hearted 
mother's tears, a daughter's shame, a home deserted, and 
despair installed where peace bad prevailed. Suppose I 
should demand this of you?" 

"And if you should demand it," said the young man, 
proudly, " I should answer that the record would appear bet- 
ter than you believe, however much it might count against 
me in your esteem. The record is painful to me in some 
of its features, because of their concealment from you ; but 
in the eye of conscience I am aquitted. The wrong I have 
done has proceeded from yourself. Dependent upon you, 
and knowing your feeling regarding my marriage, I had 
the fortune to fall in love with one in all Avays deserving 
of it, but poor. In the fervency of young affection that 
saw only its own gratification, I induced her to leave her 
mother's house, under a promise of marriage, which prom- 
ise was faithfully redeemed. I married her under a vow 
of secrecy, — fearing your anger, — and retiracy became 
necessary ; and for years has the nest been hid<!en that 
holds my bird. She has suffered untold anguish from the 
concealment, bore shame and i-ejn-oach for my sake; but 
from this hour she shall be free." 

The vindication of Mary's honor gave me great happi- 
ness, and I saw that her confusion in the cottage might 
well have sprung from the embarrassment of her new posi- 
tion, self^exiled from home, giving up all ties for the new 
affection, which I was glad to learn had not been mis- 
placed. 

Tiie old gentleman was livid with rage. 

"This to me!" said he. "7" the causa of yoicr -wrong 
doing! You have made your bed, and you must lie in it, 
though it prove of thorns. Leave me, sir ; I wish to see 
you no more." 



344 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

The young man went out sorrowfully. My feeling had 
changed to admiration for his honorable conduct, and fol- 
lowing him to the door, I begged his address, that I might, 
if possible, reconcile the parties, requesting him to keep 
his secret until he heard from me. He gave me his ad- 
dress at once : " George Ulm, Hazel Street, Maiden." 
Maiden was at this time one of the inaccessible places. 
Isolated by toll-bridges, nothing but the necessity of busi- 
ness ever brought its denizens in contact with city life, and 
one might well be considered secluded who took up a resi- 
dence there ! 

As soon ns he was gone I commenced the task of recon- 
ciliation, which I knew I could achieve. I pointed out the 
susceptibility of the young, the attractiveness of the object, 
the consciousness of dependence, the hope of favorable 
results, and more particularly I dwelt upon the honor of 
the young man through it all, so in keeping with the sen- 
timent advanced by the old gentleman himself at our first 
interview. IMy plea was effectual, and the old man re- 
lented. I asked his permission to manage a little surprise 
that I had a plot for, and carte blanche privilege was 
allowed me. I wrote immediately to Mary's mother, giv- 
ing her the joyful news of her dauglitor's recovery, and the 
more joyful news of her vindicated fame, and requested 
her attendance in Boston by tlie next stage. She came 
immediately, and by the old gentleman's request, who en- 
tered witli an excellent spirit into the business, made her 
home at his house. 

Things were ripe for the denoument, and it was now the 
eve of New Year's Day. I prepared a note, written very 
hastily, thus : — 

Mr. George Ulm. 

Dear Sir: If you wish to see your uncle alive, come by the coach 
immediately, and bring your wife with you. Haste. 

Yours truly, A. Trevor. 

Boston, December 31. 



A NEW year's reverie. 345 

I gave the note to a careful driver with directions where 
to deliver it, and in about tliree hours, I heard a carriage 
drive up to the door, and hasty feet ascending the steps, 
Tlie shutters had been closed, so that no light came through 
the windows, and the house looked dark from the outside. 
The parlor door was thrown open by a familiar hand, and 
a blaze of light burst upon George Ulm and Mary his wife, 
as they stood in the presence of the mollified uncle, the 
fond mother, and the diplomatic friend — meaning myself. 
Mary threw herself into her mother's arms, and begged 
her forgiveness, and George, after a moment's hesitation 
stepped forward, and grasped his uncle's extended hand, 
saying, — 

" Why, what means this ? I w^as told to come if I wished 
to see you alive." 

" Well, you didn't want to see me dead — did you ? " 
said he ; " and now where is the witch that has wrought 
this enchantment?" 

"Here she is, uncle;" and leading Mary before him, 
they both knelt at his feet. 

"Get up, you deluders," said he, "and don't unmnn me. 
Preserve your homage for the King that holds our destiny 
in his hand, adjusting the balance by his will — whose 
great law is the law of love — eh, Trevor ? " 

It was the happiest scene I ever looked upon. It was 
a history I had helped make, of which I was glad. Mary 
afterwards confessed to me the misery she felt when I 
visited her in Cambridge — would have given the world 
to tell me all, but w^as restrained by her vow. Suffeiing 
rather than divulge a secret — a noble instance of reticence 
in a woman. 



346 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 



MY FAMILY. 

BY PAUL SMUDGE, M. G. S. 

I don't blame any one, who can boast of good blood, 
for occasionally alluding to it. I respect blood ; it tells 
in the long run, though I do not think that a man who can- 
not boast of blood has any cause to despair. A man's 
blood becomes purified and ennobled by his aspirations, 
and a succession of good deeds will purify the- blood, while 
a life of meanness will soon vitiate the finest toned fluid 
that ever coursed through blue veins. I never, to confess 
the honest truth, thought much about blood or family till 

I lived in the city of B , in the year 18 — , when a 

Genealogical Society was formed, and by some curious ac- 
cident, I was elected a member. I never authorized any 
one to proi)ose me for such an honor; I never asked who 
thrust the honor upon me ; but I paid my admission fee, 
and assumed the responsibilities without attending the 
meetings. 

The fact that I Avas a member of a Genealogical Socie- 
ty made an impression, and occasionally, when I shaved my- 
self, I complimented the gentleman in the glass upon the 
important position he held. When I entered a crowded 
car and noticed no movement made to give me a place, I 
excused a lack of courtesy to a distinguished man on ac- 
count of their ignorance of the position which I held ; and 
once, when applying for a choice seat at the theatre, M'hen 
there was a tremendous rush, I obtained precedence over 
other applicants, as I always supposed, by adding to my 



MY FAMILY. 847 

name tlie initials of M. G. S. But these emoluments of 
my position soon passed away, and my conscience began 
to intimate to me that I was rather nnworthy of the honor 
I enjoyed. Tlie inward monitor opened its port-holes and 
I felt pierced with a desire to do something which shonld 
make me indeed a valued member of society. I thought 
the matter over very seriously; and as I was putting on 
the member's boots one morning, the exertion started the 
2Ders])iration, and at the same time an idea. The idea en- 
larged as I drew on the member's pants, it revolved itself 
into shape as I buttoned his suspenders, and when I had 
tied his cravat, the idea had become a part of my being. 
I resolved to prepare a Genealogical Tree of the Smudge 
family. 

This was my resolution ; but how to proceed was the 
question. I knew I had a father and mother, and a grand- 
father, perhaps two, though I could not remember — hav- 
ing left the family roof at an early age — any particular 
allusion to my paternal grandfather. The tree grew in my- 
brain for at least three days, and having become finally 
rooted there, I was obliged to give it attention, or it might 
have proved injurious to my mental faculties. Uncertain 
whether to commence at the top branches and run the tree 
into the ground, or to start at the root and ascend sky- 
ward, I was forced to take advice ; and in doing so I was 
told that in Shirley a family by the name of Smudge had 
long resided, who were reputed to have a vast amount of 
information in regard to the original stock. The key was 
thus obtained to my great Avork, and I resolved to trace back 
the race of Smudge till I reached the first one of that name. 
I therefore wrote to the town clerk of Shirley, asking for 
the address of the leading member of the Smudge family 
in that place. I waited for a reply. I waited two days — 
a week — a fortnight — a month, without evidence that the 



348 PARTINGTOXIAN PATCHWOKK. 

town clevk of Sliirley was possessed of vitality. I wrote 
again, and tlie return mail brought ine this reply: — 

" When you address a town clerk, or any other man, on 
business of personal interest to you alone, you had better 
enclose jjostage stamps, for all mail matter must be pre- 
paid. Yours, respectfully, 

"P. Smudge." 

This was tart, but I saw by the signature I had waked 
up one member of the family. I at once addressed him a 
very friendly epistle, and enclosed him a sheet of postage 
stamps, intimating to him that our correspondence might 
be frequent. In a day or two I received a very brief note 
from liim, stating tliat he did not know who the leading 
member of tlie Smudge family was. One was a town 
pauper, two had long since lost all claims to respectability 
by their love of the ardent^^xnd he added, "I am the only 
tax-payer by that name in this town, and hold the position 
of town clerk; if you wish any more information I can copy 
from the records all that can be found concerning the family, 
for wliich I shall charge twenty-five dollars." I concluded 
to amputate the Shirley branch of the Genealogical Tree. 

This dash of cold water rather retarded the growth of 
the tree for a month or more ; but the idea of being an un- 
w'ortliy member of the G. S. again stiinidated me, and see- 
ing in the Coos County Republican that A. Smudge was a 
dealer in groceries, I addressed him a letter, stating my 
intention and soliciting his interest in the tree. I enclosed 
Jjostage stamps. His reply came in due course of time. 
It was to the point, and read as follows : — 

"Yours came to hand all right, but I haven't got time 
to bother my brain about my ancestors. It takes all my 
time to feed six hmigry little Smudges. It is a pity you 



MY FAMILY. 3J:9 

have such a quantity of idle time on your hands. You had 
better study to made yourself useful. Be virtuous and 
you will be liappy. When your tree sprouts in our direc- 
tion, let me know." 

I called that impertinent. But was I to be discouraged ? 
No. I remembered what Mr.What's-his-name said to Thing- 
embob about the impossibility of finding the word fail 
in his dictionary, and without replying to his interrogato- 
ries, I waited for more light, resolved to give the tree a 
fair start at the first favorable opportunity. I bethought 
me of the Press, and published, as a "feeler," a paragraph 
in my favorite paper to the eft'ect that Paul Smudge, Esq., 
M. G. S., was about to trace back his lineage with tiie 
view to a general meeting of the Smudge fimily at some 
not far distant day, hoping that liis fellow-citizens would 
sympathize with him in his commendable undertaking, and 
concluding, in the editor's own language, with the remark 
that the name of Smudge had become especially endeared 
to the community, in which it had got to be a household 
word, associated with many deeds of worth and usefulness. 
The compliment was agreeable, although I found some 
short time thereafter that he had charged me half a dol- 
lar a line for it, which I jjaid without a murmur. The re- 
sult of the notice Avas, that letters began to come to me 
flora all directions from individuals named Smudge, or 
those who had, by the accident of marriage, inherited any 
of its blood; so many indeed, that I had to hire a lock 
box in the post-office, which was not large enough to hold 
them. It was curious, too, how many laid claim to con- 
nection with the family on very small premises. There 
were the Smuggs of Boneboro', and the Smutches of 
Coalville, and the Smudgits of Hayfield, and the Smooges 
of Frog Meadow, and Heaven knows what; and all sorts 



850 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

of questions were asked of me, pertinent and impertinent, 
concerning my family history: Had I a female cousin that 
married a Wig-gin? did my grandmother by my mother's 
side have three or five husbands ? was my great uncle 
hanged in Wales ? and if I had not a cousin in the battle 
of Slevegamon? I answered them all, of course. A man' 
came in one day, as I was waiting on a customer, and re- 
quested the loan of a few shillings on the ground that he 
was one of my family, and gave his card to assure me of 
the fact, which read " S. Mudge." I dismissed him, you 
may be assured, very summarily. I was annoyed for a 
while by the boys, who used to twit each other, within my 
hearing, as I passed them, with having no family. But I 
was determined that my genealogical research should not 
be retarded by coarse and unnppreciative remark. 

One result of my newspaper notice was a long and 
bulky letter which I received from the venerable Professor 
Smudge, of Mung Institute, Vermont, who in many pages 
labored to give me light in my family research, but which 
left me in gross darkness at the end. He had traced the 
origin of the family as far back as the days of Abraham, 
and thought that I might, by proper application, extend it 
still farther, saying, however, that he thought it useless, as 
probably none of the original Smudges would be present 
at the contemplated gathering. 

I answered this, delighted at having found one of kin- 
dred taste in genealogical matters, and our correspondence 
grew voluminous. So proud Avas I of my distinguished 
kinsman, that I resolved to attend the society meetings, 
and read one of his letters before it. I signified my inten- 
tion at the next regular meeting, to the wonder of many 
members as to who I was. I made great preparations to 
do it and myself justice. I read it aloud to my wife sev- 
eral times, and she by frequent nods assented to the points 



MY FAMILY. 351 

made, though in some instnnces I fancied she grew somno- 
lent; but, being a woman of many cares, I forgave the in- 
attention. I iorgave her the more readily because tlie calls 
upon my exchequer for postage had interfered materially 
with her supplies, at which she had never complained. (I 
must publish here, liowever, a qualification to the state- 
ment, that a woman failed to coniphiin nuder such circum- 
stances, the fact that, finding her supplies curtailed, she 
went very quietly and got trusted for what she wanted, 
leaving me thereafter to be sui-prised with many bills.) 
The eventful moment came, wlien I was to make my debut, 
— my first appearance upon any stage — before the august 
society. My friend, the Rev. Mr. Blow, had told me that 
to still the beating of my heart, which I found very turbu- 
lent, I must draw a long breatli, and hold on a little be- 
fore taking another. He exjilained the philosophy of it 
satisfactorily at the time, but though I tried it I couldn't 
still the tumult within. As I passed up the narrow stairs 
leading to the hall where the savants were assembled, be- 
fore whom I was to speak, my knees smote together, and 
I was so weak that any one could liave knocked me down 
with a slung shot. I entered the room, however, with 
some show of importance, not expecting applause, of 
course, but some little curious attention, and was surprised 
to find only the janitor present, and a venerable gentleman 
with an ear-trumpet, v/ho brought it round to me as though 
he expected I was going to put something into it. The 
janitor introduced me, loudly, — 

"Mr. Smudge, this is the distinguished Dr. Grubb ; Dr. 
Grubb, this is Mr. Smudge." 

" Mr. P^udge," said the distinguished gentleman, " I am 
glad to see you." 

" Smudge, sir," I corrected him. 

"What?" he said, bringing the trumpet up under my 
nose. 



352 PAETINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

" Siniulge ! " I yelled, in a tone that made the old gen- 
tleman start. 

" Ah, yes," snid he; and commenced turning over the 
leaves of a copious manuscript before him. 

Where was the crowd I had expected ? By and by 
they began to come in, — a few fussy-looking old men, — 
and then the president, looking very red, bustled in, about 
an hour behind time, took his seat, and rapped smartly on 
the table with his hammer. 

" The first business before us," said he, " is the paper 
from Dr. Grubb, upon the probable origin, rise, and fall of 
the Simla race in Newfoundland." 

Dr. Grubb shuffled together liis papers, and commenced 
to bore, continuing the process through a two hours' efibit, 
which nobody heard, the audience indulging in unrestrict- 
ed conversation, in contempt of the trum))et which lay 
upon the table. At its close, one who had talked the 
loudest during its delivery made a motion that the venera- 
ble doctor be requested to have it published in some news- 
pa])er that might be induced to accept it, Avhicli was car- 
ried ; and the president called upon me by name — "Paul 
Smudge, Esq." 

The members raised their eyes as I stood upon my feet, 
and, Avith assumed unconcern, proceeded to unfold the 
manuscript of my respected relative. 

"Mr. President," said a member, rising, "Mr. Spudge 
will excuse me for interrupting him ; but, as the hour is 
late, I will make a motion that the paper about to be sub- 
mitted to us be read by its title." 

He smiled amiably upon me as he spoke, and for the life 
of me I could not blame him after the infliction of Grubb's. 
The president looked at me inquiringly ; I nodded, and 
smiled back. The motion was put and carried, and I read 
as follows : — 



MY FAMILY. 353 

" Some Particulars of the Family of Smudge, by Dio- 
nysius Smudge, LL. D., Professor of Ethnology and the 
Learned Sciences in Mung Institute, Vermont." 

The meeting adjourned ; family pride succumbed to cir- 
cimistances, and I went home, to be questioned by Mrs. 
Smudge, and dream of a genealogical tree as large as those 
big trees in California. The next morning, taking up ray 
paper, I was surprised to see an account of the doings of 
the society the evening previous. " Large and enthusias- 
tic," "highly respectable," "learned and refined," . , . 
" among whom our neighbor Smudge, whose modesty has 
too long kept him in the background, was conspicuous, 
who read an eloquent and able paper ujjon the ancient 
family he represents, which sparkled with wit, that grace- 
fully embellished the sound philosophy and profound re- 
search of the jDroductioUjthe fine delivery of whicli elicited 
unbounded applause. Among those most delighted was 
the venerable Dr. Grubb, who waived the reading of an 
interesting paper of his own to accommodate his young 
friend." 

Could I be dreaming? and did I really "speak my 
piece " ? were questions I asked myself; but the editor 
was a truthful man, and would not deceive the world ; 
therefore I let the world believe it. I received many com- 
pliments on my success, and the same week had twenty in- 
vitations to address kindred societies in different parts of 
the country, Avhich I declined. 

My family ambition increased. I nearly gave up busi- 
ness in order to answer ray letters. I relinquished all in- 
terest in the great fimily of the world to look after my 
individual portion of it. On my return home one evening, 
after a hard day's work, I found Mrs. Smudge in a state of 
undue excitement. At first I could not tell whether she was 
most disposed to laugh or cry. Theie was no anger in her 
23 



354 PAflTINGTOXI^\:N PATCHWORK. 

look, but it seemed as if mortification were struggling with 
merriment in her mind. She pointed to my reception- 
room. As I entered it, ray eyes rested upon a most singu- 
lar figure. It was that of a man of sixty, in a dress that 
dated at least forty years back — short-waisted coat, high 
collar, long skirts, puckered shoulders, brass buttons ; long 
red vest, with glass buttons, single-breasted ; pants tight, 
terminating just below the calf, gathered on the hij)s; 
blue woollen stockings ; large, peaked-toed shoes. He 
held a hat in his hand, very tall, approaching the steeple- 
shape, very seedy, with evident marks of ink, put on to 
hide the brown spots. 

" Good evening, sir," the figure said, smiling, and extend- 
ing a large and bony hand to me, whicli I took instinc- 
tively. "You may not," lie continued, "guess who I am 
that thus intrudes upon you ; but 1 am your relative, of 
JVlung Institute." 

" The deuce you are ! " thought I ; but changed the form 
of the reply to, "Glad to see you " — a lie so frequently 
uttered^ and by so many, that the virtue of it is all lost. 

" Well," said he, " I thought you would be ; and so I 
have improved my vacation season, and come down here 
to aid you in your researches into our family history. We 
must devote a month to it. That box you see there" — 
pointing to a chest about three by six — "is full of papers 
relating to the subject, which I shall be delighted to read 
you. Is smoking offensive to you ? " — taking a pipe from 
his pocket, and lighting a match on the sole of his slice. 
I told him no, — anotlier lie, — and in a moment more 
the smoke ascended as a sacrifice upon the altar of my 
Penates, much to my wife's merriment and disgust, as she 
stood looking at us through the crack in the door. 

My respected relative staid his month out, read all liis 
papers, smoked all his tobacco, and then went back to 
Vermont, satisfied that he had conferred infinite benefit 



DBUMMING. 355 

upon me, while I entertained the opinion that a more in- 
fernal bore I had never seen than ray relative ; that to em- 
ploy him, Artesian wells might be made very plenty in 
Vermont ; and that, if the tracing of blood subjected one 
to such annoyances, it were better to be nobody, with no 
more attainment of notoriety than the mere mention of an 
obituary at the end. 

The gathering of the Smudge family never took place, 
and the world lost thereby much eloquence, and poetry, 
and wit ; and the Genealogical Society lost a member, 
who felt that he had not sufficient heart in the work to 
bear him on triumpliantly over the sea of troubles that 
lay in his path in establishing the fact that he had a fomily, 
leaving that to prove itself in the family record and the 
registry of marriages and births. 



DRUMMING. 

Everybody knows that mercantile drumming is prac- 
tised in Boston, as Avell as in other places. The perform- 
ers will hang around the hotels for customers, and drum 
like partridges to secure their prey. The caution of 
traders is excited by a knowledge of their tricks, who 
either go in to enjoy the music, or meet the advances of 
the drummers with a little counter performance of their 
own. The former course was pursued by a merchant from 
the west, who came to Boston recently for the first time. 
He had heard of the drummers, and of their attention to 
visitors, — showing them the lions about their respective 
places, and treating them like princes, — and being en- 
dowed with a considei-able capacity for a good time, and 
with not much power of resistance, he thought he would, 



356 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

if he fell in Avitli any, let them have their own way. He 
accordingly came, and stopped at the American House, 
where his jolly face and laugliing eyes were soon conspic- 
uous. Several well-dressed young niL-n at once attached 
themselves to hira, and commenced talking about the 
west. " Drummers," thought the merchant ; " not a doubt 
about it." 

They were soon very well acquainted, and sipjied a glass 
of wine together, or something stronger, as an oblation to 
the new bond between them. The stranger was surprised 
to hear from them no mention of business, and, after 
warming up a little with sundry more libations, he deter- 
mined to touch upon trade. 

"How are Hiimiltons now?" said he, breaking the ice 
by a direct push. 

"Hamiltons ! " replied one. " O, Hamiltons are tip-top 
— ain't they. Bob?" 

" They were the Inst time I saw them," responded Bob. 

They all laughed at this, in which the questioner joined, 
though he could not, for the soul of him, see what they 
were laughing at. 

"They think I'm a little green," thought he; "but let 
them go it. They'll come to business soou enough, I dare 
say." 

" How are Amoskeags going ? " he asked, after a while. 

" Well," was the reply. " I saw Amos last week, and 
he looked as if he was going to the devil very fast — 
didn't he. Bob ? " 

Bob affirined, with an expression considerably emphatic, 
that he never saw one going faster. 

" Speaking of going," said the principal spokesman, 
" suppose we show you our town. I should like to have 
you see some of our lions." 

It was beyond the business jDart of the day, and no ob- 
jection was made ; so the party sallied out, the merchant 



DEUIVEVIING. 357 

making the remark that it would be time enough in tlie 
morning to look at the Hamiltons. It was a hard season 
of sprouts that the accommodating drummers put liim 
througli. He had never seen better fellows in his life ; but 
they were very mysterious for business men. Several 
times in the course of their ramble he ventured to put in 
some word about cottons ; but they, with a laugh tiiat he 
joined in, asked him how whiskey was going at the west, 
and when he said the tendency was downward, they 
laughed the louder. He mentioned shoes ; but he found 
that this also was bootless. At last he let the boys have 
their own way, and shut his mind against business, going 
in for the fun of the thing. The day closed in a very af- 
fectionate manner, the parties separating about midnight, 
mutually satisfied. 

As for the drummers, they carried their mysterious man- 
ner throughout, and to his last remark about Hamiltons, as 
they bade him good night, a reply was made that to his 
confused hearing sounded somewhat like " Pickles! " 

"Good fellows!" he thought. "They'll be round in 
the morning, I dare say." 

Turning to the man in the office, he asked him what 
house those gentlemen who had been with him drummed for. 

"Drum for?" replied tlie clerk, in a tone of surprise. 

" Yes, drum for," said the inquirer, a little indignant at 
having his question repeated. 

"They are not drummers," replied the clerk, bowing 
politely, " but students of Harvard College." 

"The deuce they ai-e!" exclaimed the seeker after 
Hamiltons and Amoskeags. " Then I've been confound- 
edly sold — that's all." 

He booked himself to be called early, and the next 
morning started for New York Avithout making a purchase, 
not caring to meet again with his fi'iends, the drummers. 



358 PAllTINGTOKtAN PATCHWORK. 



PREACHING TO THE POOR. 

Father Taylor once said, "'Tis of no use to preach to empty 
stomachs." 

The parson preached in solemn way, 

— A well-clad man on ample pay, — 

And told the poor they were sinners all, 

Depraved and lost by Adam's fall; 

That they must repent, and save their souls. 

A hollow-eyed wretch cried, '■'■Gioe us coals .^^ 

Then he told of virtue's pleasant path. 

And that of ruin and of wrath ; 

How the slipping feet of sinners fell 

Quick on the downward road to h — , 

To. suffer for sins when they are dead ; 

And the hollow voice answered, '■'■Give us bread I ''^ 

Then he spoke of a land of love and peace, 
Where all of pain and woe shall cease, 
Where celestial flowers bloom by the way. 
Where the light is brighter than solar day. 
And there's no cold nor hunger there. 
"0," says the voice, ^'■Give us clothes to loearf'* 

Then the good man sighed, and turned away. 

For such depravity to pray. 

That had cast aside the heavenly worth 

For the transient and fleeting things of earth! 

And his church that night, to his content. 

Raised his salary fifty per cent. 



TELE COUETS. 359 



THE COURTS. 

The courts are great institutions. We always take our 
liats off in a coui't-room, partly from reverence for the law, 
partly from respect for the custom of the place, and partly 
from fear of having it knocked from our own poll by the 
pole of a constable. What a dignity — awful and sub- 
lime — seems embodied in the justice wlio figures in the 
reports as the alphabetical and familiar " J." We hear 
him addressed "yer honor," and the spirit prostrates itself 
before the exponent of stern justice, while fancy draws an 
imaginary sword and a pair of huge scales in his hand — 
the latter of which are to be used in weighing the exactest 
awards, and the former to cut oft' from the side on which 
the surplusage remains, as a butcher would divide a piece 
of beef, or a grocer divide a cheese. We cannot divest 
ourselves of the idea that we have seen his honor eating 
a hearty dinner at Parkers, laugliing like he'd die at a 
funny joke, and telling many himself with infinite gusto; 
" dipping his nose in the Gascon wine " with stupendous 
relish, as though he were an excellent judge of such 
things. The judicial ermine becomes in the light of 
reality a genteel black coat, and the conventional sword 
and scales flide away like mystic things seen in dreams. 
What a subject for contemplation is the jury — that "2ial- 
ladium of our liberty," as some one has called it — which 
stands between the law and trembling rascality, in digni- 
fied impartiality to listen to the evidence, the pleadings, 
and the charge, and remember enough of the combined 
stupidity, if they are capable of remembering it, to say 
which side shall win. 



360 PARTINGTONIAN PATCHWORK. 

We love to look upon those devoted conscripts of the 
state with their minds made up to one point before they 
begin, tliat tliey are bored. The sheriff's wand and the 
sword, tliat fearful implement, ready to impale any one 
who may transgress, are fearful things to contemjdate, and 
we turn to listen to the oath so solemnly administered to 
the trembling witnesses, who hold up their right hands and 
bow when the sound of the clerk's voice has ceased, just 
as if they had understood what he said. But a sublime 
spectacle to be met Avith in court is the examination of 
witnesses in order to arrive at the truth of a case. Had 
this not been so faithfully described in. the report of the 
case of Bardell vs. Pickwick, it would be well to speak of 
it at this time. Of course every one who goes on the stand 
is a conspirator on one side or the other, and is disposed 
— so great is the depravity of the human heart — to lie; 
hence it is necessary for counsellors, who are dear lovers 
of the truth, to browbeat and harass them by a thousand 
impertinent questions, in order to worry the scoundrels 
into truthfulness by making what they say sound as little 
like the ti'uth as possible, A man goes upon the stand 
with an idea that he is, like Hamlet, indifferent honest; 
but leaves it with a strong impression that he combines in 
himself tlie qualities of all the great liars that ever lived, 
from Ananias to Munchausen, has robbed a graveyard, 
passed counterfeit money, spent ten years in state prison, 
and deserves. to go there again. Great is Justice, and her 
courts are sacred. We take our shoes offj figuratively, in 
reverence, and move out, shutting the door quickly, lest 
any of the atmosphere of the precinct be displaced by the 
obtrusion of unsanctified air. 









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